The Publishing Rack
by bicoastaltwigirls
Summary: Edward is caught in a downward spiral while Bella is dead set on climbing her way to the top. Can they find common ground?  A collaboration from TwiReaderAbi & ImwithPattz. Rated M for Lemons ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

****WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEX, DRUG USE, AND ADULT LANGUAGE.****

**Okay...here it is. This story is a collaboration between TwireaderAbi and ImwithPattz. TwireaderAbi will be writing Bella POV and ImwithPattz will be writing Edward POV. This is a leap of faith on our part and would love your feed back! Enjoy the ride!**

**A very special Thank You to Pru Blackvange for her amazing and quick beta services! **

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. If we did, we would be finishing Midnight Sun instead of writing this story. **

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"Really." I said out loud to no one. "Really? I mean, REALLY?" It bore repeating. I mean, exactly how many times was I going to have to explain to this girl the meaning of "collate"? I picked up the stack of papers and stomped down the indoor/outdoor carpeting. Determined; I looked determined. I hoped I didn't look constipated. Gosh, did this furrowed brow thing I was trying make me look constipated? Constipation isn't a laughing matter, but when you're aiming to look serious and authoritative, well, it's just not going to garner the esteem you're working towards. Great googley moogley! I ditched the serious/constipated look and settled for a thin lipped grimace instead. I barreled down the pathway, hurtling myself into Charlotte's cube.

"Charlotte." I hissed at her. I silently cursed the day management said they would allow ear buds while working. I mean, sure, it was better than having to be subjected to Kings of Leon while trying to dutifully manage Mr. Masen's schedule, but it was impossible to get anyone's attention now. I didn't see why they couldn't just wait until they got into the comfort of their own car to listen to music. I liked my music while I cooked. It could set the tone for the entire meal. Show tunes for American fare, classical for Italian, and my favorite, Lady Gaga for hand rolled sushi and sashimi. Cooking was my passion and music made that passion flow effortlessly, fluidly.

"CHAAAARLOOOOTTE!" I said much louder in her right ear while jabbing her in the shoulder with my index finger.

She whipped around in her cube and yanked out an ear bud, a look of annoyance with a tinge of fear painted across her face. Power is a funny thing. Two weeks ago I was the outcast of the cubicle clique. Now that I was the assistant to the CEO and owner of Masen Publishing, I had power. With power came respect. Well, I mean, maybe not respect as much as bitter annoyance, but no one called me rude names anymore. Well, at least not to my face. So that was a positive!

"Keep your hands to yourself, spazzy. What's got you all riled up?" Charlotte leaned back in her chair and swiveled slightly side to side, left to right. It was making me queasy, just like the time Angela thought it would be a great idea to go whale watching out at the Channel Islands. Ugh, I must have puked six times before there was nothing left in me. Angela said she had never seen someone turn that particular shade of chartreuse. Wait. Focus Bella. You're powerful now. Don't let yourself get is your chance to show her you mean business.

I held up the stack of papers, poking my finger at them even more forcefully than I had at her moments ago.

"These forms, Charlotte. I specifically asked you to copy and collate these forms. And did you? No. No! Instead I have a stack of the first page and a stack of the second page." My hands were starting to flail a little as my pent up fury came spilling out. Charlotte moved back slightly as my left hand came dangerously close to hitting her in the face. "How can I give these to Mr. Masen in this condition? I can't! Collate! Collate! How can you not know what that means? Now I have to sort these and staple them myself because of _your_ incompetence!"

Charlotte simply rolled her eyes and popped back in her ear bud, swiveling one last time toward the dinosaur of a computer sitting in front of her, effectively shutting out my critique of her clearly lackluster office skills. I stomped my way back toward my desk, flailing my arms and loudly grumbling.

"Seriously. REALLY! I mean, how you people even call yourselves employees? Can't even collate a simple two page form. I have to do everything around here myself."

It was no wonder I had moved up the ladder so quickly. The people here were obviously mentally deficient. Oh, maybe they really were? Like, maybe Mr. Masen worked with one of those organizations that gave jobs to disabled people to help them make a good life for themselves in this harsh world. Oh no. I had better go easier on Charlotte. Poor thing. How had I not noticed earlier? Mr. Masen is such a good man. Always thinking of others. It brought a tiny smile to my face knowing I worked for such an altruistic man.

My desk was right outside Mr. Masen's door. It made it easier for him to access any and all assistance I provided. Every morning I had his coffee on his desk - two sugars, no cream- waiting for him. I made sure The New York Times, LA Times, and Wall Street Journal were organized neatly to the right of his office phone. I tilted the blinds up so as to prevent any glare on his computer monitor. I always stopped to admire my handiwork with glowing pride before I settled into my desk for the day. I knew it meant so much to Mr. Masen that I took the time to make sure everything was perfect for him. I knew it made his day easier. That was what made me the Rock Star of assistants.

He always arrived at 8:15 on the dot, usually already engrossed in a very important conversation on his cell with some super famous writer, or their agent, or both. He moved swiftly and with purpose through the sea of cubicles, to the beautiful mahogany double doors only to disappear behind them for hours on end, nothing to be heard but the light click click click of the keyboard, and sometimes the murmur of a curt telephone conversation. Today had started out the same, but just before noon the mahogany doors flew open in and he strode quickly out of the office with barely a glance in my direction. He barked at me to cancel his appointments for the afternoon and reschedule them for tomorrow. His voice had an edge of anger to it. Mr. Masen was known for his ability to charm the pants off people, and from what I had heard via the office rumor mill, it wasn't just a figure of speech. It usually wasn't necessary for him to get angry, since things always went his way. This uncharted emotion from him had my stomach clenching in nerves. Whatever had happened, it was clear Mr. Masen hadn't gotten his way.

...

I was busy aligning all of the pen cap sticks with the words pressed into the plastic body of the pens. It was a conscious effort right now, but really it had become such an automatic response to holding a pen that I found myself doing it to any pen I used in any place I went. I didn't understand why people thought it was such an odd habit. The pens were so much neater and organized this way. I had already rescheduled all of Mr. Masen's appointments for tomorrow and canceled his lunch with his daughter Alice. She was a sweet girl, only a few years younger than me, but still in college. She had just finished her third year and with only two semesters left, she was jockeying for position as Valedictorian at Pepperdine University. She was the antithesis of a rich girl attending a private university with a view of the Pacific Ocean. She was hard working, determined to be the best, while maintaining a genuinely warm disposition. Alice didn't seem to take her life of fortune for granted. She wasn't just wasting Daddy's money while partying it up with the Frat boys. I had gotten to know her on a rather friendly basis since I'd begun managing Mr. Masen's schedule. Between his business and her studies it took some serious coordinating skills to get those two together. I had spent many afternoons on the phone with Alice trying to find a time that worked for both of them. She seemed wise beyond her years. Sometimes I wondered if there was more to her story than being Daddy's Little Girl. Oh God, maybe it was really tragic. Maybe Mr. Masen found her on the streets, working as a child performer for the tourists in Venice Beach. It would be just like Mr. Masen to adopt a poor homeless girl so she could achieve her dreams of being a Biz/Econ major at a prestigious private university.

Looking out over a desolate wasteland of failing PCs and jamming fax machines, I was silently thankful my talents were recognized early and I didn't have to spend an eternity lost amongst the ruins of account assistants and publishing plebes. Offices like this always reminded me of a prairie dog pasture, people popping up randomly to see if anything interesting might be happening to break up the monotony of their days. But not me, I was going somewhere at Masen Publishing. I could feel it in my argyle knee socks. I had a desk near a window now. Eventually I would even have my own office, with a door!

Mr. Masen came forcefully through the collection of cubicles, the same angry edge to his demeanor. As he moved brusquely past he me he shouted over his shoulder "Isabella. My office. I have an assignment for you."

I was suddenly so thankful that I had chosen today to wear my best J. Crew khaki skirt and navy sweater vest. It was a little hot having the starchy white dress shirt sandwiched to me but with my very chic navy argyle socks I totally looked responsible enough for my own assignment. My hands got a little shaky just thinking about it. My first real assignment. My OWN assignment! I bet he wanted me to sort through a huge stack of queries, picking out the top ten submissions so that he wouldn't have to spend his time on comma addicted fools and lame housewives who wrote fan-fiction and thought they were going to be famous. I shook my head just thinking of those poor sad, frumpy middle-aged ladies with their "mom jeans" and Crocs, sitting at the kitchen table clacking away on the laptop while dinner burned on the stove, while day-dreaming of the fame and fortune they would have once a real publishing house saw the true talent hidden behind bake sales and mountains of laundry.

I stood up from my desk, a knowing smirk faintly hovering at my lips. I always knew I would be somebody. From the time I was a little girl I'd envisioned myself in a power suit, striding through my office while my stilettos made sharp taps across the floor, making and breaking careers with a flick of my wrist or a wrinkle of my nose. I would be a Guru of the literary world. I knew all those AP English classes and my BA in Contemporary Lit would pay off. Mr. Masen knew I was ready; I knew I was ready. I smoothed my skirt and made sure my thin plastic headband was in place. I didn't want to look disheveled. What if that reminded him of how Alice looked when he found her homeless in Venice? You know, if that's what had happened. It might make him sad and derail the whole thing. No, I needed to look as competent and capable as I felt. I reapplied my cherry Chap Stick and headed to the mahogany doors of power.

...

"Isabella, I hope you are well. I trust you're enjoying the view from your new desk?" Mr. Masen flashed his perfectly veneered smile at me. If I were into older men I totally would have melted on the spot. Objectively, it was easy to see why women threw themselves at him. He always wore an expensive suit, had immaculately coifed hair with a super straight part combed to perfection, flashed a toothy grin that might as well have made a "bling" sound when he smiled, and had just a hint of age around his eyes giving him that sexy George Clooney distinguished look. But I wasn't about to sleep my way to the top. You never really held any power when you took that route. Besides, I was saving myself for Kellan Lutz. He was always Tweeting about his charity projects and it made me swoon. Plus his abs were amazing. I could just imagine eating honey and fresh dates off of them while sexy John Mayer songs played in the background.

"Isabella?" The sound of Mr. Masen's voice, sprinkled with a tad bit of concern and confusion snapped me out of my daydream.

"Oh, gosh, sorry. Yes, yes, I like my desk very much." I felt the heat singe my cheeks. God, I hated when I did that. I didn't want Mr. Masen to think I was some ditz who spaced out on Facebook all day and flirted with the mail room guy, like that stupid Jessica at the front desk who was ways flipping her hair and flaunting her cleavage. Who leaves the top THREE buttons of their blouse open. I mean, really? I swear it was no coincidence that I never got my messages. Instead of transferring my calls she simply hung up on them. That girl hated me. I had no idea why. The guys of the office were always hanging all over her, bringing her coffee and offering her their left overs from lunch. No one offered me lunch. I sat quietly in the break room, eating my turkey and cheese, alone. She was obviously the office sweetheart, well, the slutty version at least.

"Good. I'm glad. Now Isabella, I have an assignment for you."

"Yes Mr. Masen. Thank you for the opportunity. And I just wanted to say I am so ready for this. I have been keeping my skills finely tuned. I can read 15,000 words in a hour, I have several Words with Friends games going to keep my vocabulary sharp, and I even took a course on eye exercises so that my eye sight won't suffer on account of the small type face." I took a minute to breathe after the word-vomit had subdued. Whenever I got nervous I talked. A lot. It didn't matter if I gave myself a pep talk before hand, reciting affirmations to convince myself that I was cool and easy going, I always spewed inane drivel when I felt insecure, and I felt insecure more often than not.

I dropped my eyes to my hands in my lap, mentally giving myself a lashing for being such a spaz. Charlotte was right. Mr. Masen smiled at me genuinely when I peeked up at him through my lashes. Immediately a wave of relief washed over me. Maybe he didn't think I was a spaz after all. Maybe he saw that really, my mind just moved a mile a minute and sometimes I couldn't contain all of the thoughts. Sometimes they came out through my mouth without me having much control.

"Isabella. Although I find your pursuit of, how did you put it, 'finely tuned' editing skills to be advantageous to your growth here at Masen Publishing, this assignment is less editing-oriented in nature." He pursed his lips and knotted his brow at the last statement.

I drew in a breath, ready to assault him with all of the reasons I could, in fact, handle any type of assignment to prove I was still worthy of my non-cubicle desk.

"It's my son. I need your help, er, looking after him." He looked at me cautiously. I wasn't deterred though. I jumped right in.

"Oh, I didn't realize you had a son. But Mr. Masen, I assure you I am a very qualified babysitter. I have been baby-sitting since I was 15 years old, I taught preschool as a summer job in college, and I am CPR certified. I also give a _stellar _puppet show." Right then I broke into my puppet voice, holding up one hand and making it talk. "Hello there Mr. Masen! I can't wait to sing my 'show and tell' song for your little guy!"

Mr. Masen started to choke a little and squeezed his eyes shut. I suspected he was hiding a laugh and my insides crumbled. How was I screwing this up so royally? My puppet skills were unrivaled when I taught preschool. Had I lost my touch?

"Sorry," I squeaked out.

"No no, Isabella, it was a great puppet. Honestly. It's just that my son is not a child anymore. If only he knew that." He muttered the last part under his breath, but I caught it.

"He just graduated from UCLA. He was supposed to start working here immediately, learning the ins-and-outs, prepping to take over when it was time for me to retire. But he has asked for a little time to, uh, 'sow his oats', one could say."

I blinked once, trying to figure out what Mr. Masen was saying. Did he need me to babysit his grown son? Did his son have a disability? Holy crow, that's probably why he worked with the organization giving disabled people jobs. Oh poor bleeding-heart Mr. Masen; one child with a disability and still he adopts another who was homeless. Really, this man was such a saint.

He was pacing in front of the window in his office, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I need you to keep an eye on him but this should be a covert operation, do you understand? I can't do it myself. Not only do I not have time to tail my son all over the greater LA area, but he'd see me. You, though, he has no idea who you are. He'll never notice you. You will blend right in with all of the other nameless faces. You can watch his every move." As he said this, a devious fire lit in his eyes and I saw something I had never seen before in Mr. Masen - deceit - and he seemed to come alive with the thought.

I nodded to look like I understood, but I was beyond confused. I had seen a whole different side of Mr. Masen today and it clashed with his nomination for sainthood I had planned. Was I really so uninteresting that I could blend into the background and no one would ever see me? Did he really mean no one would notice me? No, that couldn't be what he meant. I mean, he did choose me to be his right hand person, I was "Assistant to Mr. Carlisle Masen" now. That title held power and he chose me him very self. I shook off the moment of hurt and resolved to do this like the professional that I was.

"So you want me to spy on your son." It was more a statement than a question.

"Exactly! You will report directly to me. No one else is to know you are doing this. He has friends here. They will tell him and I won't get the truth, but I need the truth. I won't be duped and I WON'T have my money stolen from me. Do you understand what I am saying?" He turned and narrowed his eyes at me. I gulped and nodded again.

"I understand completely, Mr. Masen. I will do everything I can to give you a minute by minute account of your son's whereabouts as well as his activities and affiliations." I put on my most serious face, making sure Mr. Masen knew he could trust me. I resolved to myself that I wouldn't screw this up. If I proved that I could do this, Mr. Masen would see how valuable I was to the company and immediately promote me to Assistant Editor. This was simply a test and I would pass with flying colors, just like the English Lit AP test senior year of high school.

"I knew you were the right girl for the job, Isabella." He put both hands on his desk and leaned forward. He looked extremely pleased, but I wasn't sure if it was with himself or me. "Here is his address in Malibu, start there, and this is the address of his best friend, Emmett McCarty. If you don't find Edward at home, he's probably at Emmett's house." Mr. Masen handed me a small piece of lined paper with two names and two addresses in neat cursive.

"Come in every morning at 8:30 and give me the highlights of the previous day. You can head out to start your day after that. We'll start Monday." He said with a finality that let me know our meeting was over.

"Yes, sir." I stood to leave and as I made my way to the door I turned and asked one last question.

"Mr. Masen?" I tried to hide the slight panic that was in my voice.

"Yes, Isabella?" He wasn't looking at me. He was already engrossed in an email on his monitor.

"Mr. Masen who will handle your schedule now, since I will be out of the office all day long?"

"Oh, that nice girl Jessica at the front desk will take care of me for now. Thank you for your concern, Isabella. You're a really superstar employee." He flashed his winning smile one more time and turned his attention back to the computer.

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A/N: The first few chapters of TPR have been cleaned up and remastered. Thanks for your patience while we were being refurbished.


	2. Chapter 2 Meet Edward

**Thank you so much for the wonderful reaction to the first chapter of our little story! And now we bring to you…Edward.**

**Again, Twilight not ours. If we owned it, they would have had lovin' in the meadow in the first book…**

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_Run, rabbit run._

_Dig that hole, forget the sun,_

_And when at last the work is done_

_Don't sit down it's time to dig another one._

_Speak to me/Breathe – Pink Floyd_

Who is this girl? I can smell her, see her, taste her on my tongue but there is that oh so fuzzy buzzy feeling like I have never even really met her. She is the "mystery of the day" in the life of C. Edward Masen III. It felt like she was a mirage. If it weren't for the fact that l could smell her and feel the rocking of the bed I would have thought she was a dream, or a manifestation of the myriad of drugs swimming through my blood.

Oh, but she was real. I didn't know her name and even if I did, it wouldn't have made a difference. I would never see her again.

I was not always like this. The past few years had worn me down. Right past 15, when people began expecting things from me. My Father, my Mother, even my baby sister Alice. Yep, whole life planned out. UCLA, then Masters at Berkeley then next in command at Masen Publishing. The Empire God built. Err not God, Just my Father who thinks he is God. My father, the Great Carlisle Masen, Publisher Extraordinaire, responsible for discovering James Patterson, Stephenie Meyer, hell..He had probably even discovered Shakespeare or at least would take credit for it even if he didn't. I looked down again at this chick, who had traced a line of coke around her tawny pink nipple. Fuck, I still had no clue what about her name. Well, that's probably for the better. Right?

Blondie turned over after our third time and pretended like she was actually going to sleep here. What. The. Fuck. After I convinced her that it was absolutely not happening, literally pushing her off the bed, I watched her naked ass shake right on out of my room while giving me the finger. Touché babe. Touché.

I needed a lighter. Ever hear that story about the guy who is sentenced to 20 years in prison...his wife comes and gives him 20 years worth of cigarettes and no lighter? That is me to a tee. All the experience, money and love one could ever have but no motivation to do anything with it. I finally located a pack of matches and went out on the deck to watch the Malibu surf meet the sand. Daddy had given me this beach house as a graduation present, but of course I had left two weeks before graduation. It was a small beach front bungalow in Malibu – one of a dying breed. I absolutely loved it. Mama Esme had come and decorated it for me – I called it early American Esme with lots of comfy couches, throws and tapestries on the soothing green walls. My Mommy loved me no matter what happened. I was her little mama's boy and that woman took care of me. I located a small bottle of scotch and took a rather large swig, letting the warm fluid burn at the base of my throat mixing with the cocaine aftertaste on my teeth and gums. I could not relax due to the huge amount of stimulants running through me but the scotch soothed my nerves just enough.

After the warmth ran through me, I went back inside to make myself a Nutella sandwich, feeling hungry after sex, scotch and cigarettes. And cocaine but that wasn't something I liked to emphasize. I noticed my food supply was running low. Looks like a call to Mommy was in order to restock Casa Masen.

What the hell was that girl's name and where had I met her? She had nice tits and good coke. A good woman right?

I would always remember Daddy Carlisle's words on women. All tramps my son. They will always be after your money and everything else. I guess Mommy Esme had caught on quickly as they were divorced right before Alice was born. I remember hearing that she couldn't even afford a good lawyer in the divorce and ended up getting $600 a month to support Alice and me while my dad bathed in millions every morning before he went to work. Funny how Mommy was the happy, sweet, best-est woman in my life and my Daddy was a self loathing son of a bitch (who bought beach bungalows for his not yet graduated son).

Who is the sucker now Daddy?

After eating my delicious fuckin'' sandwich, I tried to get some sleep. All I could smell was crappy Rite Aid perfume all over my sheets. I was crashing hard now and it was all I could do to roll out of bed, pull the nasty Britney perfume sheets off and fall back on the bare mattress. My mind couldn't help but wander back to the poor girl from last night. I hoped she made it home or at least back to wherever she came from. I dreamt of snowy mountains covered in white stuff and toothless women with tawny permanently erect nipples.

I woke up with button indentations in my forehead. Fuckin' buttons. My cell phone was blasting "Billionaire" which was Emmett's signature ring. Emmett was my best friend, confidante, brother like no other.

"Dude. .fuck? It is not even noon yet." I hoarsely whispered into my cell phone.

"Hey Eddie my boy. Where is my cousin? I need to pick her up and take her to the airport?"

"Um." Mind spun a little, or maybe it was my head. "That was your cousin? Uh. She left early. Said something about Rite Aid or some crap."

"Rite Aid?" Emmett sounded more confused than me.

"Yeah something about needing more perfume or some shit." I laughed silently and hung up the phone after telling him to stop by later after scouting all the Rite aids in the area. Snorting, I walked into the kitchen and remembered my food situation. Fuck. Me. Without showering or changing out of my pajama pants, I grabbed my keys and drove to 7/11. No, they don't have a 7/11 in Malibu, fuckers. I had to drive all the way to fuckin' Santa Monica but I wanted a breakfast burrito and grape slurpee like nobody's fuckin' business. Breakfast of champions and worth the 45 minutes of sitting in LA lunchtime traffic.

As I drove home the events of last night started coming back to me in drabs. Shit. Emmett's Cousin. Still couldn't remember her name...

She had taken me shot for shot at Emmett's bar in Santa Monica. She may or may not have been visiting from somewhere far away. Alaska? I don't know. That sounded pretty far. Maybe not that far.

"Hey did you find your cousin?" I yelled into my phone as I cruised down PCH back to Malibu.

"Yeah she was passed out on the couch in my living room reeking of stale Edward." Emmett always thought he was so freakin' funny. .all.

"Well I hope she has a safe trip back to Alaska."

"You mean Atlanta?"

"Yeah that" and disconnected the call. Fuckin' Atlanta was not even on my radar.

_I remember walking with her across the beach, my dick nearly exploding from anticipation as we walked down the beach. I hadn't wanted to go back to my place. My plan was to take her back to Emmett's, have a little naughty fun with her girly bits and then sneak out – a common move from the Masen repertoire. However, she insisted we come back here. I figured since she was leaving to go back to Alaska err...Atlanta; I wouldn't have to worry about having a stalker._

_Atlanta was obsessed with my hair. She kept fisting it while she was pushing her tongue into the back of my throat. I sucked hard on her tongue. I could taste the cocaine on her gums and tongue. I pulled away and she moved down to my neck._

_"You are such a pretty boy" I thought I heard her say. Wait what? Pretty?_

_Fuck that._

_But little E had other ideas. He wanted some nooks. It was all his fault._

_I really didn't want to have sex on the beach but this bitch seemed like she wouldn't take no for an answer._

_I started pulling her towards my bungalow but she was resisting all efforts to move while sucking on my neck and stroking ._

_"I've always wanted to have sex on the beach," Atlanta whispered all the while making those sucking noises. She moved her head down and unzipped my fly. E.J. happily sprung free and dived right into her mouth._

_Sex on the beach was no fun but getting a blow job on the beach...all was good with the world and Malibu._

_Holy crap. This girl was sucking on me like I was her last fuckin' meal. If she deep throated me anymore, my dick would be in her stomach._

_With the cocaine, the tequila shots and her vacuum mouth, I couldn't take much more; I released myself into her mouth and she swallowed like a good girl._

_I began pulling my pants off and my t-shirt soon followed. I watched her pull her polo dress over her head_

_"So sweet," I whispered as I licked her neck. She pulled me down to the sand and I pulled her bra off, burying my head in her chest. Her long nails scratched my scalp and she gave a quick tug of my hair. The cocaine making her movements a little less than smooth._

_I rolled over and pulled her on top of me. I watched her tits bounce and pulled a nipple in my mouth and nibbled. Even though she was on top, I was in control. I never relinquished control. Suddenly she jumped up and ran towards the Malibu surf. One thing I never did was swim at fuckin' night. I saw Jaws. I was no stupid fucker. I watched her dive in and disappear under the black water. I could no longer see her and the combination of fear and sharks was taking away my fuckin' high._

_"Hey, come back, um…err...pretty girl." I heard her giggle about 20 feet out but I couldn't see a damn thing. I was beginning to get concerned. I didn't even know her name. What would I tell the police?_

_I felt a pull on my ankle as I waded knee deep in the water._

_"FUCK" I must have jumped 20 feet in the air as I heard her giggle. I threw her over my shoulder and carried her up to my bungalow._

_I could feel her long blond hair cascading down my back, tickling my spine. Her hands began kneading my ass through my boxers. I could feel little E. waking up, my high completely gone at this point. Her little nipples pressed into my back, hard from the cold ocean water. I put her down to unlock my door and her hands snaked around my front and began massaging my cock. Her tongue licking up the side of neck. She was soaking wet and I could feel her wet undies soaking the back of my boxers..._

_I couldn't wait much longer. But first things first, I wanted to get a little high before fucking her._

_Grasping her hips, I ground into her and whispered "Let's have a little fun before we get down.."_

_Placing her hands flat against my shoulder, she leaned closer, her breath sweet with liquor and coke. Her eyes were dark with desire as she pushed me inside the door._

_A small moan escaped my lips as she started pulling off my boxers. With every angle I moved, she matched my actions granting me more of her supple body. It was as if she knew exactly what to expect, as if she was reading my own mind. What I was giving her, she was willingly taking. Fuck, did I have so much more to give._

_I needed air, but refused to de-tangle myself from her. Pulling back slightly, she captured my bottom lip in her teeth. "Mmm, you taste good, but I'm in the mood for something . . . else."_

_In the small foyer of my beach bungalow, I threw her across the side table in the entry way and ripped her panties off. Oh, beautiful and bare. I buried my head between her lower lips as she screamed and writhed I took two fingers and pushed them inside of her while I licked her up and down. She was screaming so loud, I thought the police might show up at my door._

_She came loudly with two screams and a jerk that sent a vase my Mommy had brought me from an ashram in India, crashing to the floor. Don't know how I would explain that one…_

_In one motion, with no time to react, my boxers were gone, my dick standing at full attention._

_"Oh fuck," I sighed as the relief washed over me._

_As instinct took over, I knew I had to be inside of her. I pulled down a long narrow hallway into the guest room and threw her on the bed.. Once inside the safety of this never used room, I placed her on the unused comforter, and thought frantically where I could find a condom. FUCK._

_"I'll be um..right back" I pointed towards the hallway and ran into the hallway bathroom throwing everything in the cabinet on the floor._

_As I ran back into the room less than 20 seconds later, she was lying on the bed touching herself. Her face was flushed with heat and I smirked as I rolled the condom on and slammed into her._

_"I'm going to fuck you so hard," I murmured in her ear, as I flipped her over and slammed into her from behind ._

_Thrusting again and again, I slid into her, watching her little tan ass move back and forth. Her body letting out a little shiver after every thrust. Her head was smushed so far down in the pillow I was worried she would suffocate, so I reached around and pulled it out from under her. She did a little face plant but at least I knew she would survive the best fuck of her life._

_The tightness of her body was nearly too much. I pulled out and came inside the condom, eyes squeezed shut._

As I pulled into the drive behind my house, I noticed Daddy Carlisle's Mercedes parked haphazardly. Fuck. What a way to kill a nice day!

"Dad!" I called out as walked through the small structure. I saw him standing out on the deck staring out at the surf. In his hand, he held a pair of sandy Joe's Jeans Classics and a black polo, also covered in sand.

"Interesting night, son?" He asked with the slightest hint of condescension in his nasal voice.

"I came to see what your plans were in regards to starting work at my company. Remember our deal?"

Daddy and I had made a deal that if I graduated college and came to work at his company, he would buy me this bungalow. He wanted me to eventually take over his company for him so he could retire, though he had a while to go before that happened. That was far from what I wanted. Play the guitar, have more nights like last night, and maybe open a music store in Santa Monica was about as much hard work as I saw in my future That never seemed to matter to him. Then again, I had made the deal. Hind sight is 20/20. He still had no idea I had left school two weeks before graduation.

His footsteps were heavy as he walked through the bungalow towards the kitchen. His Armani jacket slung over his arm casually as he looked around, eyebrows raised at the obvious Mommy decor.

"I see Esme wastes no time in getting to work." He commented snidely while sinking back into the $5000 leather sectional delivered last week.

"She was really excited to get started" I said defensively. Plopping his feet on the table, he waved his hand around.

"So what is the story Edward? When do you want to start? I figured you would be there by now. It's an embarrassment, holding this job for you. Just tell me when so I can at least get prepared."

"Da…" I stopped short, unease washing over me about the burst of anger I was about to endure.

"Do you want a beer or something?" I offered hoping to delay the inevitable. I walked over to the fridge and pulled out two Stellas and offered him one. His pale yellow button down shirt was still completely pressed, he probably looked as put together now as he did when he walked out of his 2 million dollar condo in Bel Air at 7am. He even smelled put together. I doubt I even smelled clean. Fuck, I hadn't even showered since yesterday morning.

Shit. I need to Focus.

Picking the sandy clothes off my chair, I felt his eyes watching me. What a fuckin' buzz kill. The silence was deafening but I knew he wasn't leaving until he had some kind of promise from me. My phone was buzz-buzz-buzzing across the room. More silence.

"Dad, I just need the summer. One last hurrah. And then I promise I will come to work. I need to get this shit out of my system before I become a suit and tie and my life is over."

More silence. He got up from the couch and walked over to the back door, Armani jacket still hung casually across his arm.

"Fine. I'll accept a revision of our agreement. You can have the summer but know that I will be watching you like a hawk. Don't doubt me son. I don't like to be played for a fool. You will start the Tuesday after Labor Day. In the meantime, I expect you to keep out of trouble. Know that even if you don't see me, I will be watching you."

With that he walked out the back door, got into his car and drove away.

Fuck Me. I needed to get high. I walked over to the kitchen, took a shot glass out of the drainer and did a shot of Jameson.

Then I called Emmett and told him I needed to get out and blow off some steam. We agreed to meet at Good Microbrew off Sunset, there was nothing a menu of 1,000 beers couldn't fix.

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A/N: We love reviews. Even if you just use them to write out your grocery list. Maybe we can pick you up some items if you let us know what you need.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry if this comes as a notification of a new chapter. The initial chapters of TPR have been cleaned up and remastered, if you will. **

**Special thanks to jarkin33 and Pru Blackvange for their fantastic beta services. **

**We don't own Twilight, but boy do we wish we did.**

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The florescent lights of Newton's Sporting Goods pulsed at just the right interval , causing my brain to nearly have one of those seizures like the kids in Japan who had watched that crazy cartoon. Even though my eyes and my head were throbbing I had a very serious job to do and I needed all of the necessary equipment. First things first; I needed appropriate attire. While I had a vast array of perfectly conservative office outfits, all neatly arranged and paired on hangers in my closet, I hadn't really imagined that I would be on a special ops mission when I did my "first job" shopping trip last year after graduation. I spent the weekend watching all the spy movies I had in my DVD collection. Admittedly, there wasn't much to choose from, but I had managed two viewings of Spy Kids, Mission Impossible one time through, as well as most of Austin Powers before I fell asleep on Saturday night. Entertaining though they were, I was left still wondering how exactly to be a professional spy. Ruffle cuffed blouses and velour coats were definitely out of the question. Tom Cruise sure looked cute in his spy gear, so I figured I'd follow his fashion sense. Being a Scientologist seemed to make him very wise. He knew so much about vitamins I was sure he knew what he was doing when buying spy clothes.

After much consideration, I decided on a rotating wardrobe of all of my black clothes, sneakers (aptly named), and huge sunglasses. I figured some binoculars and a note pad would be enough to get me started. I thought for good measure I should also buy a ski mask. I mean really, it was sensible, I might need to go seriously incognito. The only problem was that I had been in this store for an hour now, my senses being assaulted by the slowly dying bulbs in the panels of lighting above, and I had yet to find a ski mask.

"Excuse me?" I held up one finger at the passing store clerk. He didn't respond so I followed after him down the aisle of ammunition and CO2 cartridges. Who used this stuff? I finally caught up with him as he stopped to rearrange some little boxes on the shelves.

"Excuse me," I read his name tag, "Mike? I was looking for ski masks but I can't find them anywhere in here. Can you please point me in the right direction?"

He turned and looked at me with a look of disbelief. "You want a ski mask?"

I just nodded. I was trying to be patient but I had to let the anxious tension out somehow so I tapped my foot rapidly while chewing my lip.

"It's June. We don't have any ski masks. Are you going to Australia or something?" Mike had started to invade my personal space, moving closer and closer with each sentence. A strange smile plastered across his pimpled face. At least I think it was a smile. Maybe it was gas; he certainly had the skin of someone who ate a lot of fast food. The fiber content of fast food was sorely lacking ,which could really exasperate exacerbate any existing digestive problems. If Mike was constipated than, then I was certain that my "determined face" was nothing like the expression he was currently wearing.

I stepped back hoping to keep a polite conversational distance between us.

"Australia? What, no, why would I be going to Australia?"

He stepped closer again. He seemed to have developed some strange sort of limp now as well. Why was he walking like that? Wait, was he hitting on me? Did he think he was doing that swagger thing the hip hop guys are always rapping about? I mean, I did have on my cutest Levis which do have a wonderful cupping effect on my behind. No he couldn't be, I was far too old for this kid, he couldn't be more than seventeen years old.

"It's winter there, you know, in the Southern hemisphere. I thought you might be taking a trip." He leaned against the counter he had backed me up against with his relentless forward advancements. "Do you like to travel? I am a very seasoned traveler. Do you travel...alone?" He wagged his eyebrows at me.

Seasoned was not an appropriate way to describe this boy, in any sense of the word. I pushed my hands out in front of me, my palms flat and facing him. I made an imaginary box around my body and then again towards his body while explaining, "This is my personal space and THIS is YOUR personal space. Please respect the boundaries of _my_ personal space. Now, if you don't have any ski masks can you at least tell me where I can find your hats?"

Mike pointed toward the back of the store. "Thank you, you have been very helpful." I didn't want to be rude, in case he really did have some kind of gastrointestinal problem. He surely couldn't be held accountable for his actions, on account of how much pain all of that gas must be causing, I'm sure it would be distracting. I turned to find the final piece of my equipment.

As I weaved my way around rounders of fishing theme t-shirts and Quicksilver board shorts, Mike called out, "Any time doll-face, you just let me know if you need help with anything else."

Doll-face? I went rigid for a moment at the odd term of endearment. I mean, it wasn't often that men used pick up lines when talking to me, but the few that I had experienced were no where near as off the wall as this boy. I composed myself and shook my head to clear it of the strange encounter.

While there was certainly no shortage of baseball hats, that wasn't the look I was trying to achieve. I needed something that said "international man of mystery." Uh, I mean "woman." Geezoman, I watched too many movies this weekend. At the end of the aisle of baseball hats sat one lone spinning wire rack with only a sprinkling of hats on it. I stood leisurely spinning it, leaned back on one foot, my hip jutted out as my hope of finding something suitable quickly waned. Then I saw it; it wasn't perfect but it certainly had more potential than anything else in Newton's - a red skiing beret. I envisioned it set jauntily on my head while I sat on a park bench pretending to read the newspaper, peering over the top every so often to keep tabs on Mr. Masen's delinquent son. I would be deep undercover, no one would recognize me.

I quickly paid for my binoculars, some freeze dried food (incase I got hungry on a long stake out) and the beret, all the while watching over my shoulder for any sign of Mike and his personal- space- invading ways. When I got home a I let out a huge sigh of relief. I had everything I needed and was ready to tackle my new assignment with a level of determination that would convey only one message: Bella Swan was born to be an assistant editor at Masen Publishing.

...

The hiss of olive oil hitting the heated pan echoed off of the walls of my spacious kitchen. It was a little one bedroom, one half of a duplex, tucked in the crisscrossed and zig zagged streets of Studio City. It was a hidden gem and I was extremely lucky to have found it! It had hardwood floors that were aged but held intriguing secrets in each scratch and scuff, a nice little bedroom full of warmth, and a Zen garden that was shared with the neighbor in the other half of the duplex.

What really sold me was the kitchen, it was the biggest room in the house! Most people had not been interested, I suppose, because once you put a queen sized mattress in the bedroom you could barely walk between the wall and the bed, but I didn't care. I had all of the space I needed to cook. Renee would love the garden and it was the first place I had lived that didn't smell like patchouli oil, incense, or marijuana - or all three. Charlie had given it the once over, confirming that the area was acceptably safe and the plumbing was in good working order. There was no garage, but a nice covered parking stall in the back that just barely fit he truck. Charlie had given me the old red truck that used to belong to his best friend Billy when I moved down here. It really wouldn't have mattered if I parked it on the street as I didn't see anyone trying to steal that ancient behemoth of a vehicle any time soon, but it was nice to have the designated space. Honestly, I was grateful to have any form of transportation and the lack of a car payment meant I could afford a little nicer place than some run down filthy studio in Chatsworth.

I shuddered at the memories of some of the places I had seen while apartment hunting with Charlie. The sultry, earthy voice of a young Jazz singer wailed in the background, adding to my dreamy state my mind.

The music picked up tempo and I snapped back out of my revelry, adding two pats of butter to the pan and, letting them dissolve and bubble up before I carefully poured in the chopped shallots, sizzling and cracking as the tiny remnants of moisture mixed with the hot oil. I stared into the pan and watched as the tip of the wooden spoon slowly moved the finely diced pieces in a steady motion, changing from milky white to translucent and finally settling on a nice caramel brown. I poured white wine into the pan, not moving back as the cloud of steam rose to meet my face. Instead, I leaned into it and inhaled deeply. Then I sang along with the sexy old show tune. She knew how to belt it out and I did my best to keep up, shaking my hips a little, feeling the swing of the big band.

I tossed in the mushrooms, making sure to cook them until they were just tender enough. Quickly turning off the flame, I moved over to the plates where the grilled chicken waited. This was the moment that made the whole dish. The chicken knew it as well as I did. I imagined it waited with bated breath (were cooked chicken breasts to have breath) to become the anchor in this succulent masterpiece. I got a little weak kneed as the white wine mushroom reduction drizzled over the plump pieces of chicken. Just as the last drop left the pan and settled onto the plate below, the timer rang out and I swiftly grabbed the pot of pasta dumping it into the colander that was waiting in the sink. Shaking it around I lifted my head and sang some more. Finishing out the song with the young songstress.

That last part cracked a little but no one was there to judge me so I went on with the final touches of the meal. I tossed the drained angel hair in some olive oil, twisted nice little clusters of it next to the chicken and lightly sprinkled shaved parmesan over each finished plate. Just as I set them at the table the doorbell rang. I straightened my plastic headband and made my way to the door.

"Hey Charlie!"

"Hey Bells, smells good." Charlie hung his belt by the door. I had put a hook there for him just like at his house, hoping to make him feel comfortable when he came to visit. I figured if he was comfortable here he would visit more often. As much as I liked having my own place, not having to yell at people to put the toilet paper on the roll the right way or manage a dry erase board of household chores, I did get lonely.

We sat down and ate right away. Charlie wasn't much for conversation, but he tried.

"Talk to your mom lately?"

"I did. Renee was going to come see me next weekend but Phil has a big harvest coming up so she needs to stay behind and help." I offered, spearing a piece of chicken and trying not to let the relief show in my voice. It wasn't that I didn't love Renee, she was wonderful and loving, but I couldn't handle the flighty, nature woman, change-with-the-seasons way of life. Growing up with her in Santa Cruz was so stressful, I never knew what would happen when I woke up in the morning. Would I head to school with my organic sprout sandwich on home made rolled oat bread in my hand sewn lunch sack or would Renee toss bags in the car and say we were following Phish on the Southwest leg of their tour? Things got better when she married Phil, a local organic farmer, and we settled into a routine around the planting and harvesting of kale and turnips, but I still longed for a system and a plan in my life.

"Well, that's too bad. If I don't pick up any overtime I'll come by and see you." Charlie offered as a consolation.

"It's OK. I'll be working a lot on the weekends this summer. My boss, Mr. Masen, has given me a special assignment." I added a sparkling smile at the end of my sentence hoping he wouldn't ask the specifics. I wasn't ashamed of my work, I just knew Charlie wouldn't take too kindly to my special ops mission, at least not without putting me through some strange semblance of police academy training and self defense classes. There was no way I'd survive something like that. Renee had dragged me to martial arts classes briefly when I was 12 when she was going through her "Asian Influence" phase. I was so nervous I ended up kicking the instructor in the junk and giving myself a black eye with the punching bag. She eventually gave up and settled on decorating the house with Buddha statues from Target.

"That's my girl!" Charlie congratulated me adding an odd arm-shaking thing in the air that I think was a cross between a fist pump and jazz hands. "It's just great seeing other people recognize what I have always known about you."

"Uh, ya, it's great getting recognition at work. Thanks dDad." With that, the conversation ended and we finished our dinner in comfortable silence. I washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen while Charlie watched some sports on TV.

..

The dull whir of the wheels of my roller bag trailed behind me as I made my way to the mahogany doors of power. I was confident that Mr. Masen would be pleasantly surprised that I had taken it upon myself to invest in this project. I knocked with a sure rhythm that I knew sounded assertive and strong. I had practiced at home repeatedly. I didn't want to seem timid or uneasy when I announced my presence to people, especially Mr. Masen.

"Come in."

I pushed open the door and strode in with confidence. I planned to present Mr. Masen with my strategic outline and give him an overview of my tools, which upon reviewing would cause him to immediately move me into an assistant publisher position and send that Jessica girl out to spy on his loser son.

"Good morning Mr. Masen. I hope you're weekend was good. I have brought everythi..."

Mr. Masen interrupted, "Isabella, I'm glad you're here, I have this for you." Without looking away from his computer screen he held out a small flat item to me. I moved closer and took the little shinny shiny object gingerly and realized it was a cell phone.

"You're giving me a new iPhone?" I was pretty sure the disbelief was plain as day.

"Yes, Isabella. You'll need to be able to contact me if there is an emergency and I want to have immediate access if I need to speak with you. I wish you luck and I'm hoping my son doesn't do anything to give you any grief." The "bling" smile was back. He stopped typing long enough to tell me what my phone number was and said he didn't mind one bit if I used it for personal calls. Another winning smile and his attention went right back to his computer.

"Thank you Mr. Masen. I have brought all of my tools for this assignment for you to review. I have binoculars, several note pads and pens, various black and dark colored outfits, as well as large sunglasses." I took a breath to continue but Mr. Masen interjected his sentiment of finality rather quickly.

"Yes yes, Isabella. I'm sure everything you have is fine. I trust you'll do this job with the, uh, precision you are so well known for around here. That's why I choose you! Now get out there and make me proud. Oh, and Alice told me he went out with Emmett last night so if I were you I'd start at Emmett's house." He glanced up briefly, winked at me, and then started yelling at the computer screen. "No, you assholes! NO! Who told you to do that!" Pressing a button on his phone he continued to yell, "Jessica! Get James on the phone right now." After he disconnected from Jessica his rant seemed to be picking up speed. "Who the Hell does this little shit think he is? I will have his ass for this!"

I took that as my cue to leave, slowly backing out the door. It seemed Mr. Masen had bigger problems to worry about and I didn't want to take up any more of his time. As I trekked back through the clusters of office cubicles I could still hear him hollering. I cringed a little and hoped I never gave Mr. Masen a reason to raise his voice like that to me. He always gave me his patented "bling" smile when he saw me and I didn't want it any other way.

...

I was parked across the street and one house over, staring out the windshield at the quaint little house. It was like many other homes in the Santa Monica area; older but flitted with charm in little corners and crevices. I was trying to be as natural as possible, pretending to read my book. I mean, I didn't want to screw up on my very first day and be obvious by parking right in front or something equally as amateur. I made sure to wear my big dark sunglasses. I could see people moving around inside, through the little window that framed the front yard. Light, sheer curtains were drawn and the bodies that moved behind them were like apparitions with no real discernible form or figure. I wondered who was inside and tried not to let my imagination run away with itself when I thought of what they might be doing. After about half an hour of watching and waiting I started to get drowsy. It was getting really hot in the cab of the truck. This must be what all of those public service announcements about not leaving your animals or kids in the car were talking about! It wasn't even hot today, imagine if it was like 80 degrees? Oh my gosh, those poor little dogs with their cute little sweaters locked in those hot cars. I see them in Trader Joe's parking lot from time to time but now I would most definitely be saying something. I just couldn't live with myself if the little pup died because I looked the other way, especially after having experienced it myself. Maybe I should have cracked a window? That's what a lot of those dog owners did to their cars when they left their furry friends to wait…or die. I made myself stop thinking about those poor puppies because I was getting really sad and distracted. I rolled the crank just slightly and cracked open my window, letting fresh air flow in and the stale air drift out.

I had just started to doze off when I was awakened by voices and the slamming of car doors. Fiddle Sticks! I hadn't seen who had gotten in the car but I would just have to follow it anyway. It was Edward's friend Mr. McCarty's car, I knew that much, so I would trust my instincts that said Edward was with him. I counted to three and then started my truck. It rumbled and roared, creaking and groaning as I stomped on the accelerator to catch up with Mr. McCarty. I had to weave in and out of traffic trying to keep up. My truck didn't really go over 45 miles per hour so the combination of Mr. McCarty's new model SUV and his lead foot were tough to keep pace with, especially once we were on the PCH. It seemed the straighter road with so few traffic signals was the equivalent of a race track to Mr. McCarty. I did my best to dodge the various people trying to enjoy the view out their driver side window, even slamming on my brakes as someone decided they needed to park along the side of the road to capture the scenery on their digital camera.

Having already staked out where Edward's house was in advance, it became clear that was where we were headed, so I let some distance grow between us and drove at a pace that was less life threatening. With the screeching of tires and what I would guess was a mild case of whiplash, Mr. McCarty pulled into the short stubby driveway of Edward's beach house. It was beautiful outside, not gray and overcast as so many of Central and Northern California's beaches were, but sunny and breezy with the heavy feel of salt in the air. The air filled you with thirst but quenched your soul at the same time.

I moved to step down from my red beast of metal and rust but I was frozen by what I saw. Auburn and copper. Beautifully messy auburn and copper tresses like strands of sultry sunshine rained down from the heavens. He seemed to be moving in slow motion or maybe it was just my brain that had ceased to function at a normal speed. That old song "Stacy's Mom" started playing in my head as I watched him. If I was a teenage boy and he was my friend's mom I am sure the song would have been far more appropriate but I was confident the sentiment was the same. I mean, he was my boss's son and certainly that was reason enough that I shouldn't have been drooling over him.

Cigarette dangling from his pouty lips, his white shirt haphazardly tucked into the dark denim that clad his long legs as he lazily shoved his feet into a pair of shiny black dress shoes. I started to feel things in my body that for so long had been carefully locked away. Feelings that were meant for tender hearted boys after months of courting and a marriage proposal. Feelings that I said I would only allow to surface for my husband. These feelings were not meant for bad boys who smoked cigarettes, oh so sexy cigarettes, and lived in beach houses. They were not meant for Edward Masen.

He looked up briefly after slipping on his left shoe (I made mental note since I was still doing my job) and his eyes settled on me for the slightest instant. The sea foam green of his eyes sent tingles down my spine like an electric current. I let out a mousey squeak and immediately jumped back into the cab of the truck. With jittery hands I started the engine and tore off, as much as I could in my old clunker, in the direction I was pointed with no regard for where I was going.

When I realized I was going the opposite direction of my house I pulled to the side of the road until I had regained my composure. I gave myself a little pep talk. I could do this, he was just a boy like any other boy and this was just an assignment like any other assignment. I didn't need to run away, I could and would prove how seriously I was committed to Masen Publishing. I would not fail Mr. Masen. I slowly made my way back to Edward's house and waited outside for any activity, large sunglasses in place. Eventually the garage door opened, Mr. McCarty's SUV leaving the driveway first and Edward's car pulling out shortly after, each going in different directions. Here it was, my first spying mission. With my notebook next to me, I set off in the trail of dust Edward left behind and followed him north, all the while watching the sun spark off of the auburn and copper reflected at me in his rear view mirror.

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A/N: Thanks for reading, please, please, pretty please leave a review!


	4. Chapter 4

Welcome to Chapter Four of our little FF! Things are going to get interesting in the next few chapters so I hope you stick with us!

Thank you to L&C, Betas Extraordinaire – I call them the comma police but you probably call them Dragonfly336 and Irritable Grizzzly, respectively. Without them…well there would be no commas.

Special Loves to my bestest TwiReaderAbi, because without her, there would be no Spazzyrella to follow my Edward around!

If casual sex, casual drug use, casual volleyball or really, anything casual bothers you, you might not want to continue…

We don't own but you already know that.

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Someone full of fun  
Do me 'till well done  
Little Bo Peep  
Cumin' from my stun gun  
Beware take care  
Most motherfuckers  
Have a cold ass stare  
Aw baby please be there  
Suck my kiss cut me my share

Hit me you can't hurt me suck my kiss  
Kiss me please pervert me stick with this

Is she talking dirty  
Give to me sweet sacred bliss

Your mouth was made to suck my kiss

~_Suck My Kiss _Red Hot Chili Peppers

"Edward, Edward are you awake? I wanted to make you guys breakfast, but I have to be at work in an hour."

Fuck, I love to be woken up to one of Rosie's breakfasts. She was southern and beautiful, and had this amazing accent. She was just made just for Emmett. Not to get all sappy and shit…because Emmett and I are very different and I have no fuckin' need to be in a serious relationship…but if I was going to make a commitment, it would be to a girl like Rosie – sweet, pretty and a great cook.

"What are my choices, baby?"

She rolled her eyes and walked to the kitchen after smoothing my hair.

Emmett showed up about fifteen minutes later as I was sitting down to my turkey bacon, egg whites, and fresh bread from the Farmer's Market. We all ate breakfast together and I was actually enjoying it. I get so sick of eating by myself and it was nice to have company, even if it was fuckin' Emmett and his beautiful girlfriend. No, I wasn't fuckin' jealous, but there was a small part of me that wanted all that shit. Just not today, or any day this year for that matter. Until that time, here I sat with my pussy-whipped best friend.

"I saw Esme at the Farmer's Market and she told me you're meeting her for lunch today at Taverna Tony's in Malibu."

My other love was my mother. I loved her so much I still called her "Mommy." Well, only to her face really. She loved that shit. I had a few hours before I had to meet her at the Country Mart, so I figured I'd hit Spectrum and get in a workout.

"You want to meet at the Standard later and have a little swim fun, Emmy-girl?" I said to my best friend as I watched him stuff his face with the special french toast Rosie'd made him. I couldn't eat that crap and maintain my physique. Today was Sunday, and every weekend there was a party at the pool at the Standard Hotel in LA. Plenty of drink service and lots of pretty girls able and willing to drink them with me. I loved going with Emmett, because he wasn't competition. He always made it clear he was taken, so I could have the pick of the litter, so to speak. Emmett and I played around LA a lot, together and separate. He was the one person I could count on; Emmett was my wingman.

"Let me talk to my Rosebud and I'll meet you at the gym." I snorted and walked out. Pussy-whipped motherfucker.

I got into my baby: my 2011 black SUV Porsche Cayenne hybrid. Even though it didn't look like the coolest car, I thought it was and I treated it like my long-lost little sister. I loved driving it and I think it loved me driving it too.

I took out my cigarettes and lighter and pull out onto Pacific Coast Highway. My gym, the Spectrum Club, was in Santa Monica, only about ten minutes from Emmett's cottage. He worked at the club as a personal trainer to the stars and had an amazing reputation with the music industry. He could count some big names among his devoted clientele.

I was more than a little jealous of his career. He knew what he wanted to do and was successful at it. Emmett could honestly say he loved going to work every day. While he had direction, I was floundering. I wasn't really cut out to be a musician. I just knew I loved music and my instruments, specifically guitars and piano. I didn't want to be in a band, per se, but I enjoyed playing.

My guitar was the best of the best. A Gibson 1934 L-5 Special from Norman's rare guitars in Tarzana. Loved that fuckin' place. I could live there. Well maybe not in Tarzana. I definitely had standards, but it was my favorite store in the entire universe and I could spend hours in there strumming away on various guitars. I was proud to call Norman a personal friend. Besides Mommy Esme, nothing meant more to me than my guitar. I pulled into the parking lot of Spectrum and was happy to see it was mostly empty at only ten a.m. on a Sunday. Most people worth knowing were sleeping off their Saturday night. I could get in a nice run without feeling like eye candy for the masses. I knew I looked good, but sometimes you just needed to get shit done. My daily five-mile run, whether on a treadmill or along PCH, made me feel like a million bucks and kept my body in prime condition, especially with all the drugs and alcohol I consumed on a weekly basis.

I walked into the gym and everything seemed to go in slow motion. There, on the elliptical was one of the most beautiful women I'd had ever seen. She had long black hair, a nice firm ass, and though I only had a side view, some nice perky breasts. Shit. It didn't even look like she was wearing a sports bra. I usually liked to run, but today I was getting on that trainer. I threw my stuff in a locker, peered in the mirror, winked at myself, and set out to score. I saw Emmett walking into the gym with one of his clients. I smirked and nodded in the girl's direction and he coughed and walked the other way.

I got on the elliptical next to her and tried to figure out how to work the fuckin' thing. I side-eyed her and got a nice view of her rack and her flushed cheeks

"Excuse me, but I've never used this machine before. Would you mind showing me how to get it going, beautiful?" I flashed the million-dollar smile and give her my patented wink. I was always on top of my game.

We worked out for an hour, discussing where we lived, stars we'd seen at the gym, and the best places to drink in Hollywood. Emmett came by at one point and just laughed at me.

Elaina and I exchanged numbers, and I knew that if we don't hook up soon, I wouldn't remember who the hell she was when she called. It's not like she wasn't totally hot or that I didn't like talking to her, but more like "move your feet, or you lose your seat."

There were way too many women in this town. As soon as one moved aside, the next one was right behind her, waiting. I wasn't a male whore; I just can't do commitment right now. I mean, if I couldn't commit to my own father, how could I commit to a woman? I needed to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life, and then maybe I could try dating. Right now, it wasn't even on my radar.

I showered quickly and went to go meet Esme for lunch. There were some great design stores in the area, so it was convenient for her to meet me there.

I saw her as soon as I walked in. Her copper hair matched mine exactly and the way her face lit up when she saw me, you would have thought I was fuckin' Santa Claus. Since I was going to the Standard after lunch, I was dressed in a white button-down shirt and dark jeans with black dress shoes. My hair was still wet from the shower.

"My baby boy!" she cried as she threw her arms around me. I was six-foot-two now and she was barely five-four so I picked her up and gave her a big hug. She was the best and I let her know it all the time. Alice and I were the center of her world and even when things were bad, she always made sure we had everything we wanted.

We ordered our food and began the same conversation we always had.

"So…any nice girls in your life? You're such a catch, my sweet boy. With your good looks, musical talent, and wonderful personality…I just don't get it." The interrogation begins.

"No time, Mom. I'm so busy there's just no time for a relationship. It just doesn't fit into my life plan right now. You'll be the first one to know when I'm ready. I promise." God how I love this woman, but she can really be tenacious.

I talk to her about things I want to do. She just listened and listened, and then give me the whole "you can do anything you want to" speech. I was aware of this shit, and I probably knew how to do it too. Maybe it was easier to just sail.

There was no point in trying to explain it. Everything would just sound like an excuse, and she'd wind up giving me her sympathetic smile.

"You're going to be great at whatever you do, Edward. You're my beautiful boy!"

I gave her a hug. Thank God for my mom. I told her about what happened with Dad the day before and how he basically threatened me and I felt like the inevitable was going to happen: I was going to end up at Masen Publishing and my life would effectively be over.

After lunch, I needed to get back into fun mode. I decided to head over to Newton's Sporting Goods and get some new tennies. I knew Mike from Malibu High School. While we'd never been friends, I always felt kind of bad for the guy. He clearly had some hygiene issues and yeah, he was working in his parents' store at the age of twenty-two. That kind of sucked. Though, when you thought about it, in two months, I was probably going to be working for my dad, too.

I browsed while Mike helped this super-spastic girl who was looking for a ski mask in June. Mike was clearly thrown by the weirdo who was making some comments about space or some shit. He finally caught my eye and I saw relief written all over his face.

"What can I do for you Edward?"

"I don't know man. I was thinking maybe the new Adidas Mifluid Trainers. Do you have those?"

"Let me check."

I walk out twenty minutes later with a new pair of Adidas in a very cool blue. I couldn't wait to wear them on my run tomorrow. Running alone was nice, but sometimes it got kind of lonely doing this shit all by myself. Sometimes I thought it would be nice to have a girlfriend to go tennis shoe shopping with, or even bring to lunch with my Mom.

I wasn't lonely, and God knew I got laid enough, but sometimes it was about the fuckin' companionship. I was twenty-two and had never been in a serious relationship. That kind of sucked and made me feel like a bit of a loser. I wished I could "rent" a girlfriend when I needed her, like in _Pretty Woman_. I laughed to myself. Yeah, look how well _that_ turned out.

I pulled off of PCH and ten minutes later I was in my driveway with thirty minutes to spare before Emmett was due to pick me up. I just wanted to sit on my back deck and smoke a joint. I don't regret anything that I've done, or decisions I've made, but I was feeling unsettled, like something big was about to happen. I knew I was a spoiled brat and things needed to change, I just didn't know what to do.

"DUUDE! EDDIE-GIRL!"

"Ever hear of a doorbell, Emmett?"

"C'mon let's get out of here before all the pretty ladies get fucked."

The Standard was packed. The young and the beautiful were everywhere: in cabanas, lounging on chaises, playing volleyball in the pool, and just generally acting beautiful.

Emmett and I immediately paid for an empty cabana, and were in complete shock that one was even available this late in the day. We put down our stuff and closed the curtain. I did a line of coke to get some energy. Lying back on the chaise lounge, I can almost feel the drug working itself through my blood, pumping it with an insane amount of artificial energy. I felt great.

"You don't need that crap, Edward."

"Fuck Emmett. Don't kill the high, dude. I just want to have some fun and maybe get laid. Both require more energy than I have right now."

We put on our suits and Emmett pulled open the curtain, then ran and did a cannonball into the pool. He wound up splashing about fifty blondes who had no intention of getting their hair wet. I laughed and looked around when I saw a familiar face. Lauren Mallory. She used to be my father's assistant and she looked good but had to be at eight least years older than I was. A member of the not-so-young, but still beautiful. We'd never hooked up, much to her dismay. I never had much of an interest in older women, but I knew she was a sure thing and that counted for a lot.

Emmett had joined a volleyball game at the far side of the pool. I figured he'd be occupied for a while, so I decided to make a move. She was sitting on the side of the pool with her feet in the water, reading a paperback and wearing those huge sunglasses that recently came back in style. Her hair was a very light blond and she was wearing a black bikini. Gorgeous. I did the ring-check and there was none, so I swam over, pulled myself out of the pool, and sat next to her.

"Hey Lauren."

"Holy crap! If it isn't Carlisle Masens' son who's grown into...wow…a gorgeous man. Holy shit Masen, you're all grown up!"

"Lookin' pretty good yourself there, Lauren." She really did look good. A little older and more sophisticated. I wanted to fuck her. And very soon.

"How old are you, Edward? You must be what? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?"

"I'm twenty-two Lauren and just like you said, all grown up," I said in a voice that declared how much I wanted to fuck her. "Emmett and I rented a cabana over there. Why don't you hang out with us?"

"OMG. 'The' Emmett? Are you two still attached at the hip? "

"Yeah yeah. He's around." I point to him lobbing a ball over the net.

"So what do you say? Come hang with me?" I didn't want to ask again, but she wasn't moving.

"I don't know, Edward. You're at least ten years younger than I am," she teased with a smile. That's when I knew. In my mind, I've already got her on her back with her bikini off. I stood and hold out my hand to pull her up.

"C'mon." She laughed and we walked over to the cabana where we hung out for awhile.

After our third line of coke, things start to get a little heated. We didn't have a lot in common except an almost electric attraction – but it could have just been the coke.

We were lying next to each other on a double chaise just laughing, so high we thought everything was funny. Then she puts her hand down my board shorts. I'd been hard for the last hour and to say it's a relief was an understatement. I jumped up and pulled the curtain closed.

She was standing up now, watching what I was doing. Her blond hair was damp from the pool and she looked a little uncertain. I didn't like it, so I walked over and kissed her. Hard. Within five minutes, we were naked and fucking up against the wall of the cabana and I had my hand over her mouth because she was making so much noise. She orgasmed quickly and it took me a little longer because of the coke. The whole episode lasted about ten minutes. Then we sunk to the ground and started laughing again.

"That was about five years in the making," I whispered in her ear. Then suddenly I had to stand up because between the coke, the intense activity, and the heat in the enclosed cabana, I felt a little nauseated.

"I think I need some air." I handed her the black bikini and waited for her to put it on before I pulled on my own and opened the curtain. The sun was blinding and though I was surrounded by people, no one knew me. I took a huge gulp of the humid air and prayed for this feeling to go away. My heart was racing and I motioned to Emmett who was pulling himself out of the pool.

"Em, I don't feel so good," I said as he came over with a concerned look on his face.

"How much coke did you do, man?" he asked and at the same time, I felt a small hand on my back. I glanced at Lauren and she held up her paperback, telling me how nice it was to see me again, and excused herself.

"Not that much. I just want to go home." I didn't tell him my heart was racing and I that I couldn't seem to get enough air, but my heavy breathing was probably a dead giveaway. We quickly gathered our things and I got into Emmett's car, since I was in no shape to drive.

"Just take me to your house, Em. I don't want to be alone."

He called Rose to meet us. As we were pulling up to the house, she came running out and pulled me out of the car with a concerned look on our face. I knew she'd care of me. She brought me inside and helped me lie down on the sectional. Then I felt a cold washcloth on my head and immediately started to feel better. It was late and I drifted off while listening to Emmett talk to my sister on the phone about how fucked I was.

Yuck. Something was licking my face. Something with very bad breath. I opened one eye and saw Emmett's Wolfhound, Lily, trying to wake me up. I hummed at her and she put her huge head on my stomach and hummed back. Lily was almost twelve-years-old. Emmett got her for his eleventh birthday and when he was home, the dog was always by his side.

I dragged myself off the couch and then remembered how I got there. I had fallen asleep without dinner and I was starving. I went to the bathroom and then found Lily's leash. We took a quick walk around the block and when we arrived back home, Rosie had coffee on and was making omelets. I kissed her on the cheek and prayed she wouldn't bring up how fucked up I was last night. She didn't.

"Two days in a row, Rosie. I might move in," I told her as I grabbed her hand and kissed her like the princess she was. Emmett walked in when I saw him in his Trainer attire, I remembered it was Monday and I had nothing to do. I looked at the clock. Nine a.m.

"Eddie, I have to give you a ride home so I can get to work," he told me as he grabbed a protein shake from the refrigerator.

We rode back to my place in silence, neither wanting to bring up the pink elephant in the car.

"So, Lauren Mallory?" Emmett snorted.

I groaned. I barely remembered what happened, but I felt something foreign. Guilt? Anxiety?

"She's beautiful. A little old for me, but I don't think either of us are looking for a relationship."

"Eddie, do you see that red truck following us?"

I peer in the rearview mirror and sure enough, there was a red truck two cars behind us.

"Dude, talk about paranoia!"

"No, really man. I saw that truck on my street this morning!"

We finally got to my place. "All right, Em. I'm just gonna run in and grab my gym shit so you can give me a ride to Spectrum."

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door. The first thing I saw was an old truck, red and rusty, sitting in Tyler's driveway next door. I looked the driver in the eye and realized I couldn't place her, but I knew her. She had these big dark eyes and looked completely stunned. I got back in the car, and as we drove off, I saw her pull her truck out and go the opposite direction. I thought this day couldn't get stranger. Was she really following Emmett?

Emmett was totally flipping out, apparently having already seen it. "At least she isn't wearing a ski mask!" I tried to joke and ease his anxiety, but it didn't seem to work.

_Ski Mask_ - something flickered in my brain.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello Friends! If you are joining us again, than you for coming back, if you're just finding TPR, we hope you are enjoying it!

Holla at my girl ImwithPatz- I wouldn't be here if she hadn't had faith enough to ask me.

A special thanks to our betas jarkin33, dragonfly336, and Irritable_Grizzzly. Without them you don't even wanna see the comma abuse that went down.

**As always, Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. TPR is ours though**.

* * *

Wednesday June 23st

_8:25am- 2:20pm_

_Stake out at Edward's house_

_2:23pm- 3:41pm_

_Followed Edward to Spectrum Gym_

_Edward ran on the treadmill for 40 minutes_

_Edward did push-ups and pull ups for 20 minutes_

_Disappeared in locker room for 18 minutes-could not follow to take notes_

_Left gym_

_3:42pm- 3:58pm_

_Followed Edward to Third Street Promenade_

_Parked in Parking Structure 2 on Second Street_

_3:59-4:08_

_Walked to Apple Store_

_4:09-4:55_

_Inside of Apple Store_

_Edward played with several iPads on display_

_Purchased something - item not seen_

_4:56-5:02_

_Walked to Armani Exchange_

_5:03-5:40_

_Edward tried on 4 pair of shoes_

_Also tried on some items of clothing. _

_Could not see Edward when he was in dressing room_

_Edward left with two shopping bags_

_5:41-5:55_

_Walked back to Parking Structure 2_

_5:56_

_Left parking structure _

_Followed Edward back to his house._

My notes were as detailed as they could be considering I was unable to walk and write at the same time. I always typed them for Mr. Masen in a neat and concise outline form and brought a hard copy to each meeting, as well as sending a duplicate copy to him via email. I wanted to make sure Mr. Masen could read and review my notes efficiently. The practice was influenced by the knowledge that Mr. Masen wouldn't appreciate all the little hearts encasing Edward's name, as well as the doodles of "Mrs. Edward Masen" and "Isabella Marie Masen" that littered the pages of my notebook.

Wednesday in particular was especially boring. After checking in with Mr. Masen for our typical fifteen-minute meeting, with me reciting what I'd done the previous day, and him clacking away at his keyboard responding with "mmmhmmm" and "yes yes" every so often, I had driven the long and winding road between Calabasas and Malibu. Considering my truck only went forty-five miles an hour, I was used to spending disproportionate amounts of time getting from one place to another. It took me an hour and a half just to get from my duplex to the office every day, and that was going against traffic.

When I finally pulled up to the row of aging bungalows along PCH I was careful to park one house away as usual. Edward didn't leave until well into the afternoon. I sat in my car the entire morning, never so thankful for having access to the internet on my phone.

I read the daily celebrity gossip on Perez Hilton's website. He knew everyone who was anyone, and was kind enough to share all of his juicy tidbits of knowledge with those of us who feed on celebrity gossip like Ghirardelli Chocolate. The top story was what Lady Gaga wore to the airport that morning. How did that woman manage to get a handcuff-adorned belt through security anyway? I mean, really, what were security standards coming to these days? And I don't know about her, but I was always cold on airplanes so her comfortable traveling bra and underwear were mind-boggling.

The baked brie, arugula and bacon sandwich I'd brought kept well in my little insulated lunch bag. The crisp, salty bacon and the creamy texture of the brie were such a tantalizing pairing, the flavors a welcome distraction from the monotony of my morning. I usually brought a lunch with me so that I could dedicate my entire day to monitoring Edward's every move.

Excitement filled me when he finally left his house, only for it to drop like a lead balloon when he led me, once again, to the Spectrum Club. Like a flash of lightning I realized that I could acquire stellar details if I signed up for the two-week trial membership the exclusive fitness club offered, instead of sitting outside and waiting for him like the stalker that I was.

In retrospect, I don't know why I hadn't thought of it earlier. Luckily, most of my black spy-like clothes were exercise attire and therefore a change was not needed. I looked like I had intended to join the gym all along and not remotely like a corporate spy whatsoever.

A nice woman named Irina who had a deep tan and platinum blonde hair did the paperwork, but I declined the tour so as not to draw attention to myself. It was heaven in there. They even had fluffy while towels in the locker room. Good Gravy, a girl could get used to that level of luxury!

I picked a treadmill in the back corner, keeping myself inconspicuous. As I jogged along at a steady pace, Edward continually increased his speed. Sweat had started to accumulate on his forehead and arms. Soon, his t-shirt was sticking to his skin and I could see every ripple of his muscular back as he pushed himself harder and harder, his thighs flexing and contracting with every long stride.

My heart pounded in my chest, and my breathing became short and ragged. I wasn't sure if it was the exercise or my eager imagination that caused my erratic state. I watched this beautiful, who was oblivious to my existence, in fascination. I couldn't tear my eyes away; I studied him like it was my job. Well, technically it was, but at that moment it was purely recreational.

At one point he slowed his machine and took a light jog for a few minutes. I, in turn, slowed mine. Sweat dripped off of his brow and he swiped at it with one of the lush towels from the locker room. When he finally stepped down, he twisted open a bottle of water and took several deep, long gulps. My knees went weak when his tongue darted out to catch the tiny droplets that clung to the outer edges of his lips.

I nearly collapsed in relief when he dashed off to the locker room. I left the gym and waited in my truck for him to emerge. As we cruised down Sunset Boulevard back to PCH, I was excited that I would have more time to watch and study this creature. As far as I'd seen, he wasn't really a bad guy; a little spoiled with too much time on his hands maybe, but he hadn't done anything shocking to date.

Following Edward on one of his many shopping sprees worked out in my favor for once. This time it was the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. His trip to the Apple Store afforded me the ability to chat with a nice sales associate named Ben who taught me about all of the new features and differences between my old iPhone and the new iPhone 4 that Mr. Masen had given me. Edward was captivated by the new iPad and eventually bought something, but I missed what it was, since I'd been engrossed in a round of "Angry Birds". I would have to be more careful about my distractions.

I was sure Mr. Masen would be deeply disappointed with any failure on my part caused by frivolous computer games, even if I had unlocked two levels already and learned that the toucan explodes like a bomb. I wondered how PETA might feel about a game where one used a slingshot to catapult various species of birds into a myriad of structures. I was pretty sure they wouldn't like it.

Edward left the store, and I sprang into action as he weaved through the crowd with purpose while I scurried to keep up. As he stepped into the Armani Exchange boutique, I slipped off to the side of the storefront, choosing to watch but not shop, knowing that there was no way I could follow him. It would be impossible to disappear into the background. I would stand out like a sore thumb in there.

With bags in hand, Edward made his way back to the parking structure, with me in his shadow, ghosting his footprints. He drove home, the unwilling and unknowing half of a pair, ending his day, back where he started. That was the routine that filled most of his, and therefore my, days. Follow Edward to the gym, follow Edward to lunch or shopping or to the pool at the Standard, follow Edward home. I waited an hour or so, eventually deciding that he was staying in for the night, and then drove back home through the canyon, all the while biting my cheek against the swell of a smile fighting to break free.

...

The tempo of the office was hurried and almost frantic as I arrived for my now ritualized morning meeting with Carlisle. Jessica sat at the front desk sipping coffee out of her sipper cup. She was the type of girl who wasn't satisfied with regular drip coffee with a dash of cream and sugar. She would have none of that and had to go to the gourmet coffee bar in the lobby and pay for her sugar-free half-caf double-caramel latte with non-fat milk. "Plain" coffee would never pass that girl's lips.

"Hi, Jessica!" I waved emphatically as I moved around the reception desk and headed toward the mahogany doors of power. With headset firmly attached to her tightly-ponytailed head, Jessica jumped into my path holding her hand up.

"Um, hi Bella. Can I help you with something?" She flashed a super-toothy smile I was sure she had practiced in her bathroom mirror until it was just the right amount of tooth-to-lip ratio.

"Oh, no thanks. Mr. Masen is expecting me, so if you'll excuse me…" I went to the left to steer around her and her giant breast implants, only to have her step in front of me again.

"Um, actually, Bella, I don't have you on his schedule. I'm his assistant now, remember? While you're on your, uh, special _assignment_." Even though she didn't actually use air quotes, it was implied in her voice. "Anyway, he's not in his office. He's in a meeting with Marketing and they're about to make a big announcement." She leaned in and whispered, "A real high-profile author left Random House and is going to be publishing with us. The contract is already signed." Then she straightened up, tucking her exploding cleavage back into her low-cut top. "Besides, like I said, I don't have you on the schedule." Jessica, like her coffee, was all fake sweetness and scalding heat.

"Oh, but he expects me every morning. I'll just go into his office and wait."

"I'm sorry Bella, but I can't let you do that. You know how important it is to keep his schedule carefully organized." She layered on the gooey congeniality like too much frosting on a birthday cake. "Why don't you just call me later and I'll see where I can fit you in this week, _okay_?" She said "okay" extra-perky, with just the right lilt at the end.

"B-but, he knows I'm coming. He'll think I didn't show up and I can't have that. I'll just wait out here."

I walked over and sat in one of the stiff-backed chairs across from the reception desk and busied myself for a while, catching up on my Words with Friends games and reading various online publications. When that became tedious I simply sat and watched Jessica.

She did her duties, but the rest of her time was spent gossiping with everyone and anyone who passed by her desk. She never even so much as glanced in my direction. After an hour I realized if I stayed any longer, I'd risk missing Edward beginning his outings and and I'd spend half of my day visiting his regular spots trying to find him. I packed up and got ready to leave.

"Jessica, please let Mr. Masen know that I waited for him for an hour, but I needed to continue my special assignment and had to leave. I will be available by cell if he would like to discuss yesterday's synopsis." I laid the printed version of my notes, which were of course in an envelope with the word "confidential" clearly stamped on it, on the high counter. Before my back was even turned, Jessica grabbed it, looked me in the eye, and sneered as she crumpled it into a ball, and then haphazardly threw it into her trash can. My stomach turned over and I stared at her with my mouth hanging open.

"He doesn't want your stupid notes, _Bella_," she said, with the sweet smile and syrup tones while spewing venom from her eyes and mouth. "It's a waste of his time meeting with you, _Bella_. THAT'S why you're not on his schedule today. You know how busy he is, _Bella_." She kept saying my name with an edge of distain as if it was a dirty word, "_Bell-uh," _andthen she smoothed her hair to make sure it was in place when she finished, "Like I said, just call me later and I'll try to fit you into his week somewhere, m'kay?" With that she turned her attention back to the beeping phone system and left me feeling smaller than an ant on the floor of the Amazon jungle.

I sat in my car for a minute and worked to keep the tears at bay that burned the backs of my eyelids. When the shame won out, I let a few spill over, but then quickly I regained my composure. Shetland Ponies! Why did Jessica hate me so much?

I tried hard to always be courteous and polite to people. I knew some of the interns under my direction had been less than enthused with my insistence on meticulous attention to detail, but I had never been anything but nice to Jessica. I had even brought her one of her disgusting coffee drinks one morning in an attempt to be friendly with her like I was with the other employees, but she had only taken one sip said it was cold, and then walked into the kitchen and poured it out. I didn't understand why nothing I did put me in that girl's good graces.

I resolved to do better at my job. The same day-to-day information about Edward simply wasn't good enough. I needed to work harder, better. I decided then and there I would follow Edward everywhere he went, day or night. No more calling it a day at six or seven in the evening. I would master being Edward's shadow. I would never miss a move he made, starting today.

...

I followed Edward through the breezy Malibu summer day as he cruised from place to place, filling his time in a way only those blessed with wealth and luxury had the opportunity to enjoy. As the sun set and tinted the sky with magenta, pink, and fiery orange, I steeled my resolve and vowed once again that I would do whatever it took to prove my worth to Mr. Masen.

Long after darkness had fallen, somewhere around 10:30 that night, Edward bounded from his bungalow dressed for a night on the town. Gray casual slacks, an un-tucked black T-shirt, and the most drool-worthy finishing touch: gray Converse. Unshaven with slightly messy hair, he was the picture of the guy who seemed to not care what he looked like, but managed to look drop-dead gorgeous anyway. But I knew better, I knew he spent hours perfecting that look. His shopping habits alone were proof nothing was "accidental" about his style.

After weeks of spying I had memorized the toned muscles on the backs of his arms and the way he slouched just a bit when he thought no one was looking. There had been nights when my dreams were filled with fantastic images of those arms holding me by a romantic fire or lifting me gently from a horse-drawn carriage. I always woke from those dreams rather flustered and definitely embarrassed.

I had also catalogued all of the outfits he wore throughout the weeks, but he seemed to have clothes that I'd never seen, reserved just for nights like this.

I gave him the usual five-second lead time and followed him all the way down PCH to where the 10 freeway met Santa Monica Boulevard and we snaked our away along until we reached Vine.

Much to my surprise, Edward pulled up to the valet parking at the W Hotel. I hurried into the self-parking area, where luckily there were several spots open. I grabbed the first one, and then took off at a dead-sprint in the hopes that I'd catch him just as he was entering, rather than have to run around trying to find him in the crowd.

Was he meeting a woman for a secret rendezvous? Was he attending a convention of some sort? I had heard of a convention called "Comic-Con" that was really popular, but Edward wasn't dressed as Captain Kirk or a Wookie, so I figured that couldn't be it. I crept around the corner trying to hide behind the valet podium. As luck would have it, he was still outside of the hotel chatting with a small group of people who were all as good-looking as Edward.

One was Emmett who I recognized from all of the times I had trailed Edward to and from his house. Another was a tall blonde guy with cowboy boots jutting out from the bottoms of his designer jeans. The last guy was tall, with dark hair, wearing nice dress clothes. He seemed distracted, like maybe wishing he wasn't there at all.

There were also two girls: a tall devastatingly-beautiful blonde tucked into Emmett's side, and a tiny little girl with black hair and the highest stilettos I had ever seen, though she still wasn't near the height of the blonde boy she was holding onto for dear life. I could somewhat overhear their conversation from where I stood.

"Dude, Eddie-Girl, you gonna leave any ladies for the other sorry sons-o-bitches in there tonight?" A boisterous Emmett bellowed and laughed. punching Edward in the arm.

"Whatever, man." Edward said, blowing off Emmett's good-natured ribbing. "Thank fuck we have a real nightclub to go to. Before Victor Drai came back from that giant sandbox, there wasn't shit to do in Hollywood. I got us a table tonight, right near the dance floor."

"Fine, but don't bring a bunch of slutty bitches to the table tonight Edward," the blond woman huffed. "I hate the stench of their cheap-ass perfume in my hair."

I looked down at my clothes. Spending hours in the truck didn't lend itself to fashion as much as function. I was wearing a t-shirt, black leggings, and gladiator-style sandals. Not that I looked terribly unfortunate, but if I wanted to get into that club I would have to look more glam and less grunge.

Back at my truck I spotted the dry cleaning I had picked up earlier that morning. Quickly shuffling through the hangers, I found my "little black dress". It was indisputably true that every woman needed one. Mine was simple and understated but I still looked hot in it. It bared just enough skin to have a sexy feel, but not so much that I was ready for a gynecological exam. My sandals would have to do since I didn't have any heels with me.

I ran a mini-brush through my hair and dug through my bag until I found the rather-neglected tube of "Underage" Mac Lip Glass. As perverted as the name was, I loved the subtle tint and super-shiny effect. Several strands of hair stuck to my lips as I applied the obscenely-viscous gloss. Once I was as cleaned up as I could get, I headed back to the big glass doors.

The lobby was insane. There was a huge spiral staircase and shocking red carpet with ultra-modern furnishings. When I asked the front desk clerk how I could find the nightclub, she simply pointed to a very long line of beautiful people. I watched a small group of girls walk right to the front of the line and smile and giggle at a large intimidating man holding a clipboard who unlatched the velvet rope and welcomed them warmly. I immediately understood how this game was played, so as the next group of girls approached the bouncer, I straggled behind them and as he was letting them in I snuck up and said "Oh, I'm with them, I had a problem with my shoe back there."

"Of course little miss, I wouldn't keep a hottie like you waitin'. Quick now, you go find your girls. I wouldn't want you losin' them in there." I internally balked over his compliments, but I played it cool and stepped through the ropes into a world I had only imagined.

In college I had been to the local bars and sad excuses for nightclubs that surrounded the University, but this was like something out of a movie. Plush white couches bordered the dance floor, while curved booths sat on elevated platforms each encasing a small cocktail table. Every table had one, if not several, silver buckets filled with ice, the tops of various high-end spirits advertising their wealth and status, visible to every one of the beautiful people surrounding it.

The dance floor was the focal point with a glowing DJ booth behind it and the seating areas shot off to each side. Bodies moved and the bass thumped in my chest as I scanned the crowd looking for Edward. The bar was packed, but I shimmied my way through the crowd and ordered a Shirley Temple. The bartender gave me a smirk and said, "DD?" I smiled in agreement (he didn't need to know the story of my undercover mission) and he added, "Then it's on the house."

With sparkly-pink drink in hand, I lurked near the dance floor. One song blended into the next, with vocal tracks layered on top of bass beats, mixing popular songs with old favorites, or simply turning ballads into dance tracks.

I amused myself by watching clusters of beautiful people. Some of the women sipped drinks and chatted at their seat, while others populated the dance floor in sets of two and three. Almost every guy was either at a table or the bar; only a very privileged few were on the dance floor with a woman.

Sporadically, a cluster of women would pass some men who were huddled together and the show would really begin. One of the guys would grab the hand of one of one of the women and would try to lead her from her protective pack to the dance floor. This approach led to one of three outcomes: she would look him up and down, wiggle her hand free and keep moving. She would politely smile, but remove her hand, shake her head and keep moving. Last but not least, (about as rare as a lightning strike) she would turn to her friends, let them know with her eyes that she was interested, and they would move to the dance floor.

In that highly-infrequent occurrence, there were two styles of dance: the "near dance" and the "public hump". Observing the latter was like watching something on Animal Planet, only grosser, and with more exposed skin.

Someone bumped me and I spilled my drink onto my foot. I leaned down and removed my shoe to wipe it off when I dropped it, and was surprised when a large hand reached out at the same time, making a grab for the shoe. I made my way up to the body the hand was attached to. What I saw made me choke on the maraschino cherry.

The tallest guy I had ever seen was beaming the whitest, broadest smile. At me? It made my heart flutter a little and my tummy felt like I had eaten too many skittles with a chaser of Sierra Mist. That happened once at a midnight showing of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. I ended up heaving in the ladies' room just when the phoenix flew in to rescue Harry. Even though I had read the books, I was still really disappointed I missed it.

"Hi!" He shouted near my head since he was a good foot taller than I was. "I haven't seen you here before. My name's Jake." His ginormous hand completely covered mine with room to spare as he shook it carefully, like I might break.

"Bella!" I pointed to myself. "And I haven't been here before, so if you had seen me I would be very worried about your mental state. But you look relatively sane, so I would have to assume I had one of those Doppelganger people running around and it wasn't really me you had seen. I've always wondered if I had an alternate-universe version of myself, you know, like on that show _Fringe_? Maybe you would have seen AU Bella! Oh my gosh, what a spooky idea! I just gave myself goose-bumps!" His face fell a little during my inevitable word vomit, but then he grinned wider grin and laughed.

"Ha! You're pretty funny, especially for a cute girl. Wanna dance?"

I figured it couldn't hurt. This Jake guy was definitely cute and it would help me blend in while I kept an eye out for Edward. The DJ mixed in a new song and the crowd all hooted and hollered.

A multitude of girls ran out to the dance floor. Some danced in front of the table they had been sitting at, and a few even stood on the couch seats. The song had an awesome pounding, frantic beat, and everyone was completely entranced. An odd electronic voice started repeating "put your hands up" and everyone on the dance floor reacted reflexively. I felt flush and electricity flowed through my limbs, moving my body with abandon.

Jake moved closer and touched my hip tentatively. I gave my okay by getting closer to him as well, my courage sailing high. I loved dancing. I felt alive when I lost myself in the sounds and feels of a great song. I blared music at home all the time, dancing, quite literally, like no one was watching. I wasn't great, but I wasn't terrible. I had just enough rhythm to move with a large crowd and not hurt myself or anyone else.

The beat of the song remained, but a new track of vocals was mixed in. A rock song I knew well. It originally had a dance feel to it, but the DJ was working to keep the energy flowing and sped up the sultry male voice just enough to lay on top of the electronic rhythm set by the last song.

Jake leaned in to speak to me, "I tend to lose track of girls around here when they head to the bar or the bathroom. Do you think I could get your number before the clock strikes midnight and my Cinderella runs off?" He handed me his phone and I typed in my number quickly. Just as I handed it back to him, I glanced over his shoulder and met eyes with Edward.

He was standing at one of the elevated tables staring at me. Why was he staring at me? He looked...angry. Why would he be angry? He didn't even know me. I couldn't move. I was locked in his gaze, frozen with a mixture of confusion, fear, and dirty, dirty thoughts. I'd have to watch hours of the Disney Channel just to clear my head tomorrow.

_Well I'm not paralyzed/_

_but I seem to be struck by you_

_I wanna make you move/ _

_because you're standing still_

_If your body matches/ _

_what your eyes can do_

_you'll probably move right through/ _

_me on my way to you_

Oh criminy, he was coming right at me and he was pissed. Definitely pissed. What in the world had I done? I had a feeling he was about to making it exceedingly clear to me exactly why his eyes were blazing with the heat of a thousand suns. And truth be told, I couldn't wait to find out.

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If you'd be so kind as to leave a review we'd be forever grateful. If you wanna see the pic that inspired Edward's outfit for the club it's here http:/flic(dot)kr(/)p(/)8LaofG (if you take out the () and it still doesn't work it's just my FFn fail)

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	6. Chapter 6

Welcome Back Pretties! Abby and I are so thrilled with the response to this story. We love writing it! It's sort of like playing Barbies again…

Special thanks to Irritable Grizzly, Jaime Arkin and DragonFly336. All work so hard to correct our tenses, comma's, spelling mistakes and general bad grammar. We love them lots.

Again, not ours. Stephenie M. owns these characters. We just make them do things she wouldn't approve of.

On with our little story…

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_And the angels beating all their wings in time_

_With a smile on their face and a gleam right in their eyes_

_Could not seem to get a high on you_

_Come on up now, come on up now, come on up_

_May the good Lord shine a light on you_

_Make every song you sing your favorite tune_

_May the good Lord shine a light on you_

_Warm like the evening sun, yeah yeah_

_Come on up now, come on up now, , come on up now, come on up_

~The Rolling Stones _Shine a Light_

I kept looking in the rearview mirror, feeling a little paranoid. At first I thought that maybe this red truck was following Emmett, but then she just happened to be in the same place as I was .. I was getting freaked out.

I would peek out my window in the morning and the red truck would be sitting in Tyler's driveway. I would come out to go to the gym and the truck would wait exactly five seconds before following me down PCH all the way to Spectrum. She seemed so familiar to me, though I knew I'd never met her before.

She was pretty enough in a plain sort of way. I couldn't see her body, since only her upper-half was visible when she was driving. She never actually got out of the car and actually looked like she was trying to feign some sort of disguise. If I wasn't so freaked, I might have actually found it funny. I knew I was good-looking, and had an awesome body, but why wouldn't she just come introduce herself if she wanted to meet me?

"Maybe she was hired by someone to follow you? Maybe she saw you at a club and had to have you? Maybe she actually is stalking you?" Emmett was responding to my rant about the red truck as we walked Lily around Virginia Avenue Park near where he lived. It was Saturday; not that it mattered. When you didn't work, all days sort of ran into each other. There was a farmer's market today and I followed Emmett around while he picked up healthy shit and passed his card around to potential customers.

"Maybe you should just fuck with her...you know what I mean? Lead her to places she might not want to be. Make her regret whatever she's trying to do? Or you could just fuckin' ask her why she's following you."

"Yeah but where's the fun in that?" I snorted. "She's just making me paranoid. I want to know what she wants. I feel like she's going to repossess my car or leave boiled bunnies on my doorstep." I shivered a little.

"Dude you are being so EMO about this. I mean you seem obsessed with this red truck following you. Really E., just ask her what her deal is. Or totally fuck with her. Or get over it."

I decided to listen to him. EMO was not a good look on me and whoever she was, she seemed harmless. If I saw her tomorrow, maybe I would lead her to _Tacos Baja Ensenada_ in East L.A. and see how she liked some Mexican food after dark. I laughed to myself as I got in my truck and headed to the gym. Unconsciously, I looked in the rearview mirror again, and there was Big Red Truck. I was headed to Norman's rare Guitars - a good forty minutes from where we were. I hoped she didn't mind going for a ride. Wasn't it illegal to stalk someone in the state of California? I wondered if she had nice tits...

Lighting a cigarette as I jumped out of my SUV, I looked around and realized I'd lost Red Truck somewhere on the way to Tarzana. I quickly smoked it down and walked into my favorite guitar store in the whole world. I just felt so at home there. I knew the make, model and background of each glorious guitar that hung on the walls and would actually feel the loss when I would walk in and see one of my favorites had been sold. Today I walked in and noticed they had a brand-new Fender Sonoran Blue Acoustic. What a beauty. Tricia was working today and she was usually chill with me sitting on the floor and strumming some notes. She came over and sat next to me while I tried to play "Shine a Light" by the Rolling stones. Playing gave me such peace.

As I finished, I looked up and smiled over at Tricia, who'd gone over to help a customer. She looked at me and winked. I could sit here all day and I knew she would let me. I stayed for another hour and decided to head on home. I was on a Mexican food mission. It would be cruel to take her to Tacos Baja Ensenada, so Tito's Tacos here we come. The neighborhood wasn't the best, but better than Baja. I hoped Red Truck liked some good deep-fried taco goodness.

I pulled onto PCH at around nine-thirty and took the highway south to Culver City. It was only about a ten-minute drive and Red Truck followed me all the way there. Tito's might have the best Mexican food in Los Angeles; however, the area surrounding it was sketchy at best. I pulled into the lot and she didn't stop, but kept right on driving. Damn. I had hoped to have a companion for dinner. I stepped on my cigarette and went in to have a Taco. Might as well. I was already here. I went up and ordered my food, deciding I was really hungry and getting a burrito instead. The girl who took my order was beautiful. Long dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. I winked at her and sat down, looking around at everyone. It was Thursday night and the place was packed. Almost every table was filled. Mostly couples or frat boys. No one was alone.

I felt odd. Well, not just odd, but I kind of had a lonely feeling. I almost wished Red Truck had come in. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, I pretended to be reading something on my phone. I heard my order called and went and picked up my bean burrito. Under the paper plate, was a name and number on a napkin. I looked up and big dark eyes winked at me. I smiled at her and motioned outside. She held up five fingers and I went outside, leaned up against my car and ate my burrito. That shit was awesome.

I saw the beautiful Hispanic girl walking toward me and while I knew she might be an easy score, I felt trepidation. I thought back to the last easy score and the panic attack that ensued as a result. Though I knew some of that was from the coke, and tonight I was more than sober.

"Hi"

"Hi" Ariana practically whispered. She had a slight accent and couldn't have been more than twenty. I finished up my burrito and lit a cigarette, offering it to her. She smiled and took a drag on it, and then handed it back to me.

"How old are you?" I asked. It's not that I can't do young, but I don't do jailbait.

"Twenty." I gave her a sideways glance and pushed her hair out of her face to see it better. I realized, though she was beautiful, that I didn't want this. I didn't know why. It wasn't that I was tired of the chase. Hell, there usually wasn't even a chase. What was happening to me? I could have really used a good lay. But my heart wasn't in it. I kissed her on the cheek, realized she smelled like tacos, got in my SUV and drove away.

Masen Publishing was located in Calabasas. It took up its own four-story building. I didn't visit often and today, I didn't even have an appointment. I needed to have a talk with the great Carlisle Masen to see if I could buy myself some time, because it was quickly running out. I parked my car on the street and took the stairs up to the second floor where all the executives were. I knew I wasn't dressed for this visit. I was wearing dark jeans, a Beastie Boys tee, and Converse, but it wasn't like I was attending a board meeting. There was a new girl sitting at reception. Her eyes widened when I walked in and she quickly ducked under the desk.

"Hello" I called as I leaned over the marble reception. This girl was kneeling on the floor putting on lipstick. She looked up at me and I winked. She giggled and it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I tried to keep the smile plastered on my face.

"Is Carlisle in?'

"Do you have an appointment?" she said as she licked her lips. She licked . It was obvious she wanted to fuck me, but I could not have been less interested.

"No, I'm his son." I held out my hand. "Edward Masen". She just stared. I was beginning to think I had something hanging out of my nose or something.

"Jessica."

"I'll just go back and see if he's available." She came out from behind reception and walked backwards, smiling at me. Nice rack, but looked like she had been around the block a few times. I could sense that almost immediately. I wondered if she'd been around that block with my father. I gave a little shiver and sat down to read Maxim. Kristen Stewart was on the cover in a torn tee and tap pants. She was scowling, which was pretty typical behavior for her. The girl was hot, but couldn't say her own name and make me believe it.

"He can see you in about ten minutes." She came in and sat back behind her desk, smirking to herself. The whole scene was a little odd. I turned back to Kristen and read about how cool she thought she was, and how people just misunderstood her.

Twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

"Um Jennifer?"

"Jessica."

"Do you think you can call him again and remind him I've been waiting for awhile?"

"Sure" She said and licked her lips again, her eyes on me the entire time. She picked up the phone and whispered into it and I wondered if he was even on the other end.

"You can go back now Edward. Do you need me to show you where it is?"

At that same moment, Carlisle came walking out.

"Son, what a nice surprise. Shall we go get some lunch?" He seemed overly-happy to see me, and my Spidey sense spiked almost immediately.

"Sure. Lunch sounds good." I looked at my watch like I was pressed for time, when really I had nothing at all going on until Emmett was picking me up at nine. So yeah we could have had lunch for seven hours and I really wouldn't really have been pressed for time.

We got in Carlisle's new car - A sleek little black two-seater. He kept looking past me and again came the Spidey sense.

He drove over to the Marmalade Cafe - one of his favorite lunch spots. A "see and be seen" kind of place. He looked so proud to be walking in with me that I almost felt bad that he was such a prick.

We sat down and almost right away...

Three, two, one...

"So have you thought more about coming to work for Masen in September?" He had his hands clasped together and an expectant look on his face.

Since I'd come here to try to delay this scenario, I said the first thing that came to mind to change the subject.

"Some red truck has been following me all over Los Angeles County. And sometimes even Ventura County. It's a girl, so I think she's probably harmless, but I can't figure out what she wants or why she's following me."

"Ah. Isabella. I knew that girl couldn't be discreet if her life depended on it." Carlisle was smirking and I was completely taken aback. My FATHER sent someone to follow me. My own FATHER.

"Da...what? Who is she?" I was red and sputtering, though I didn't really know why. I sort of liked Red Truck and didn't want to hate her by association.

Right at that point, the waitress came over and started reciting specials. Carlisle, never one for tact or manners, interrupted her and ordered the Grilled Salmon for both of us, with a chopped salad. Of course he'd act like that due to his never-ending attempt to make me feel like a five-year-old. The waitress, a young blond with a braid and beautiful blue eyes, looked at me and winked. What is with the winking? That was the third wink in twenty-four hours. Did they all have some secret wink code? Without hesitation, I winked back and she hurried away blushing. Carlisle cleared his throat.

"Plenty of time for that later son. I'm sure she can meet you after lunch…"

"Dad, who is Isabella and why on earth would you get her to follow me?"

"She's my former assistant. I asked her to follow you because I wanted to gauge your seriousness in regards to taking a job at my company. I wanted to see what you're up to and why you needed a summer off. As far as I can tell, you've done a lot of shopping, work out at expensive gyms, and spend copious amounts of time with Emmett. I also needed something for her to do. She's a good kid, but she talks an awful lot. It's distracting. Also, she has an obsession with puppets."

I was in shock that he would do this, but when I thought about it, it made perfect sense. She probably wouldn't fuck him on command, so he figured he'd kill two birds with one stone. She'd be out of his hair and at the same time he'd find out what I was spending his precious money on..

"I don't intend to call off the hounds, so to speak, Edward. Isabella gives me quite a detailed report of your comings and goings, and to be honest, I like to know what you're up to. Please don't confront her and if you can't avoid coming in contact with her, I just ask you to be kind to her. She most certainly does not have the same "interests" as you, and is somewhat of an innocent."

I just kept nodding, trying to understand what he was telling me, when the waitress came over with our fish and salad. We ate silently.

Finally, he spoke. "I expect you to live up to your responsibilities, son. I put you through college and bought you a bungalow in Malibu and I anticipate some repayment. I know you can do good things at Masen Publishing," he told me as he pulled his black card out of his wallet.

"Thanks for lunch Dad." was what came out of my mouth, when in actuality I wanted to say, "No, no, NO way in Hell will I come work at your company." It was the end of June and that meant I had two months to figure out my life before Carlisle came to collect on our agreement

In the mean time, I decided to hit the club. I hadn't shaved in two days and my hair was untamable. I knew I needed to get high and get laid; not necessarily in that order.

Emmett picked me up at nine and we saw Red Truck pull out behind us. I told him about lunch with Carlisle and who exactly was following us. I let him know what Carlisle said about being nice to Isabella, and how she doesn't have the same "interests" complete with air quotes. We collapsed in laughter as I passed a joint to him.

We tried to think of different and more interesting ways we could fuck with her as we pulled up to the valet at the W hotel. I was incredibly high and felt great. I saw Alice, Jasper, and Tom with Rosalie waiting out front for us to go into Drai's. I looked around for Isabella but I couldn't see how she would ever get into this place. I thought again how she didn't belong there. Fuck my dad for making her do this.

Then I realized I didn't want to ruin my excellent high and put it in the back of my mind. The bouncer motioned for us all to go in. I was having the same conversation with Alice that I had with Emmett in the car. She was the coolest little sister anyone could have and I loved her like no other. She was extremely type-A and knew exactly what she wanted to be doing in twenty years. Her boyfriend, Jasper, was more mellow. They worked as a couple and I was jealous thinking about it, overwhelmed by the loneliness I'd felt all week.

I had reserved a table in the back and we sat and ordered our bottles. Alice immediately jumped up and ran to the dance floor with Rosalie. I needed to get my drink on before I found my prey on the dance floor. Not that I needed liquid courage, I was a great fuckin' dancer, but I want to keep my high going.

I saw a familiar brunette on the dance floor. It couldn't be her, could it? Although I'd never seen her outside of her truck, I was almost positive it was. Curiosity won out and I stood up to check her out.

It was most definitely her and holy shit she was beautiful. Isabella had beautiful thick chestnut hair, halfway down her back. I immediately t thought about how it would feel to run my hands through it. She was small but beautiful, with a nice set, a tight body and gorgeous ass. She was dancing with some fucktard who couldn't seem to hold a beat. Suddenly I felt protective of this "innocent" and wondered if she was truly as comfortable as she looked dancing with him. Emmett moved to stand next to me and recognized her immediately.

"Dude, Is that Red Truck?"

"Yeah." I added, "I'd like to tap that."

"Hey Eddie, remember she is an "innocent" he replied using the air quotes we were so fond of. I bent over laughing so hard tears came out of my eyes. Who the hell was innocent living in LA? I mean she was old enough to be working for my Dad. That means she had plenty of time to have been used and abused by this city I stopped laughing when I saw her moving closer to fucktard and suddenly felt a weird sense of jealousy.

"Em, I'm going to talk to her." I put down my drink and went out on the dance floor. Emmett reached out and grabbed my shoulder.

"Your Dad told you to leave her alone, E. You don't want to piss him off more than he already is."

"But what if she doesn't like this guy? What if he's bothering her?" I watched as she put her hands on him and moved closer.

"I'm moving in Em." I slapped his shoulder as I made my way over to her putting on my best scary face just so fucktard would know who was boss. She was hired to follow ME, not him. She was mine. I realized as I was standing in front of her that I had absolutely no game plan. A flicker of fright crossed her features, only to be replaced by a look of surprise.

The dude looked from me, to her, and then back to me, stepping in front of her in a protective stance.

"Bella do you know this guy?" He asked her with an edge to his voice that made it clear he would fight for her if I pressed him. I wondered for a minute if I would get any satisfaction out of seeing blood drip from his lip if I punched him. I decided he wasn't worth the possible assault charge; you never knew which guy was pussy enough to press charges instead taking it like a man.

Bella stuttered, "Um, well, uh..." She looked like she was fighting a smile.

I stepped around the dude, grabbed her hand and walked toward the door to the patio. He grabbed her other hand and she turned to him.

"Jake, it's OK, I, uh, kinda know him. Call me tomorrow, OK? It was great to meet you!" She hollered the last part as I practically dragged her outside.

The lights reflected off the still water of the pool. People milled around, smoking or talking; some making out in dark corners, others right out in the open. The faint thump of the music filtered outside, but other than the loud voices of drunken conversations, it was fairly quiet. I could really fuck with her now.

"I've seen you around town. You and your red truck. You're not as covert as you think." I smirked at her as I watched the pink tint creep up her cheeks. "It's okay. You're a pretty little thing, I'd be happy to give you some attention if you want it. You don't have to sneak around. You could have just asked." Then I winked at her. I figured I'd keep the theme for today alive; everyone was winking at me, and I figured turnabout was fair play.

It was the wink that seemed to send her into a pissed-off rage. She hunched her shoulders like a little kitten backed into a corner, narrowed her eyes, and then turned and quickly left, leaving me basically standing there with my dick in my hand. She didn't take the bait at all. What was I gonna do now?

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Abby and I would love to hear what you think – Even a thumbs up would thrill us to death!

Thanks again for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

_Hello friends thank you so very much for coming back for another chapter! Sorry for the delay but it was unavoidable._

_Special Thanks to Irritable_Grizzzly for her super amazing happy fun time beta services and her red pen of love._

_**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, we own TPR.**_

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I didn't know what had me more upset: that I was clearly failing at my assignment or the way Edward spoke to me. Who did he think he was? I mean, really! _"You're not as covert as you think you are. If you wanted some attention you could have just asked."_ ARRRRRGGGGHHH! I gripped the steering wheel in frustration. He was so cocky! And he winked at me! WINKED! I felt the embarrassment wash over me again as I used all of my weight to push down the gas pedal, making my behemoth of a truck go as fast as it could down the freeway toward home.

His crooked smile was painted on the backs of my eyelids, mocking me every time I blinked. How I wished I could have thrown a witty retort at him. Instead all I could do was scurry off in hopes of preventing more of my usual ramblings. I would never be like those smart, clever women in the movies. Someone like "Kathy" in _Singing in the Rain _when confronted with the arrogant Don Lockwood. If only I could have told him he was just a bunch of "dumb show." Because that's all he was, with his designer clothes and flashy car. I guess he really was what he appeared to be.

As far as my failure to remain _incognito_ during my assignment, well, I didn't quite know what I would do about that. I had tried so hard, always hanging back in the shadows, parking just far enough away that I could still watch him, always wearing my black clothes. I'd even donned my red beret at the farmer's market one day, watching from behind a newspaper just as I had envisioned. How could he have recognized me? I just didn't understand. I was trying so hard to excel, to show how valuable of an asset I was to Masen Publications, and I was totally messing up the whole thing. How was it that my efforts to achieve perfection always ended up collapsing in on themselves? I just wanted to succeed, to make something of myself.

I would have to continue my efforts if I was going to prove my worth to Mr. Masen. What else could I do? I had a plan for my future and I wouldn't be deterred. I couldn't invest in high-tech spy equipment, and asking Mr. Masen to provide me with the funds for such would indicate I couldn't get it done by my wits alone, and he'd know I was a failure.

If I parked too far away during my stakeouts, I'd never catch up when Edward drove off in his fancy SUV. I sighed to myself in defeat. I had to keep watching him. Even though Edward knew (I mean, he'd obviously known, but now I knew he knew) I couldn't completely give up my assignment. Mr. Masen would still expect my reports every day. Hopefully he'd never find out how badly I messed up.

At least I no longer needed to be "covert," as jerk-face Edward called it, and I could just park right in front of his house now, with no need for a ten-second lead time, and no need to hide in the back of the gym. I was pretty confident he wouldn't call the cops on me; he didn't seem to believe I was a stalker what with all his crude attempts at flirtation. Regardless, I could simply explain, if any law enforcement officer were to inquire about my activities, that I was on a work assignment, which was clearly NOT stalking. At all. Completely different, I'd say.

...

I twisted the little handle of my egg timer, setting it for eleven minutes. I was baking peanut butter cookies for Charlie. They were his favorite and I liked to surprise him from time to time with a dozen or two. The Saturday afternoon sunlight filtered through the window and in the strongest beam I could see the little bits of dust and such floating as if they were in slow motion. It reminded me of pixie dust. Suddenly Lady Gaga's digitized voice singing "_my, my, my telephone"_ reverberated off of the kitchen walls. I didn't recognize the number, but I answered it anyway. It was probably a wrong number.

"Hello?"I asked cautiously.

"Hi, is this Bella? It's Jake from the W last night?" I almost laughed when I heard his voice, so timid and questioning, as if I wouldn't remember him. Like I had guys calling me all the time. Ha. The only man who calls me is my father.

"Yeah, hi Jake! Sorry I had to leave so abruptly last night. I'm glad you called."

"What was with that guy, anyway? He looked like he was gonna hurt somebody," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was concerned or angry. Maybe both.

"Oh, Edward; he's a long story. So, did you have fun last night?" Oh. My. Gosh. I sounded like I was asking if he went home with someone. "Um, I mean at the club. I didn't mean to imply anything. I'm sure you're a respectable guy." Crap. I chastised myself to just be quiet and stop embarrassing myself in front of the first guy who'd asked for my number since college.

I heard a deep chuckle and I felt my stomach turn. He was totally going to find a polite reason to end the call after that outburst. Or maybe even not-so-polite. It wouldn't be the first time.

"You and that great sense of humor again. So look, I was wondering if you might wanna go out some time. Nothing too formal, just hanging out. Maybe we can see a movie or just chill?"

It almost sounded like he was asking me out! "That sounds great Jake!" I hoped I didn't sound too desperate, but I hadn't been on a date since Peter and I broke up right after graduation. He was going to Dartmouth to get his PhD in paleontology and I was moving down to LA to be closer to Charlie. We decided it was for the best.

"Okay, so how's tomorrow night? If you give me your address I can pick you up at six and we can choose a movie together." I could hear the smile in his voice and it made me smile too.

"Perfect." I gave him directions and felt a little giddy. I, Isabella Swan, had a date. I squealed to myself and went back to my cookies.

...

A few minutes after six, I was checking my lip gloss when there was a solid knock at the door. I told myself to be calm and cool, and not rush to the door like someone had locked me away from social interaction for three years. I opened the door and there was that huge white grin again. Jake emanated warmth and happiness. I figured the night ahead had great potential. I invited him in and we used the laptop to check what movies were playing locally. He wanted to see some sci-fi movie based on a cartoon and I wanted to see a supernatural thriller. We compromised on a light romantic comedy.

After the movie we decided we were too stuffed from all of the movie nachos and candy to go to dinner. Neither one of us were interested in a noisy bar, so we settled on a little local coffee house where we could hang out for a while and be able to carry on a conversation.

Talking with Jake was easy, comfortable. Everything about him was comfortable. He was open and friendly with a rugged side. We talked about our siblings, or lack thereof for me. Then we flitted over our family history and talked at length about our college experiences. We laughed a lot and didn't have a lull in conversation once. On the way back to his car we held hands and it was nice.

We arrived at my house, and like a perfect gentleman, he walked me to my door. As we stood on the porch under the glare of the spiral energy-saver bulb, we bid each other goodnight.

"Bella, I had a really good time tonight. Would it be OK if I called you again?"

"Absolutely Jake, I had a great time."

With his signature gleaming smile he tilted his head down to whisper to me, "Is it too soon to ask for a goodnight kiss?"

I tilted my head up shyly to show my assent. This was it; the moment where I would feel the spark of love and the greatest romance ever known would begin. All of the fairy-tales would come to life!

He leaned closer and closer, and I could feel his heart speed up and his breath quicken. Then our lips touched and instead of hearing angels sing and feeling a tingle in my toes all I could think was, _Ew, ew, ew_. Damn.

...

I sat in my truck in front of Edward's spoiled rich-boy beach house grumbling to myself. Not one house up, but right in front. He knew I was here, so what was the point of parking at the house next door? No signs of life had come from the bungalow. It was far too early for Edward to make an appearance, so I sat and reflected on my date. Why was that kiss so bad? Everything about Jake was great. He was good-looking, fun, nice and easy to talk to; what else could I ask for? But kissing him was a disaster. It was like kissing my brother. I had to use all of my self-restraint not to wipe my mouth off afterward. Instead I smiled and said I looked forward to seeing him again, which was true. I could totally see myself spending more time with him but after that kiss, there was no way it could be of a romantic nature. If he tried to kiss me again, I'd wind up hurting his feelings.

As I worked to drown my sorrows in chocolate-covered granola bars "Good Love is On the Way" came through the tinny old speakers in the truck. I closed my eyes and listened to the wise words of _Douche-bag _aka _John Mayer_. How was it that a man could write such beautiful love songs and treat women like that? From what I read on the gossip sites, he was the worst boyfriend of all time, constantly spilling the beans about past relationships.

Speaking of gossip sites, might as well pass the time…

When I ran out of my chocolate-disguised-as-breakfast-food and celebrity rumors to gasp and sigh over, I checked the time. It was noon and I still hadn't seen hide nor hair of Edward. I was perplexed, but maybe he had continued his partying beyond Friday night and was nursing a hangover or something. As if he knew what I was thinking, he walked right out of his front door, put his hand over his eyes to shield them from the bright midday sun, and looked right at me sitting in front of his driveway. I just shrugged and went back to my iPhone.

While I pretended not to see him, he sauntered up to my open window, leaning on it with one arm and extending a bottle of water to me with his other. I glared at him from the corner of my eye and then tried to ignore him again.

"I wasn't sure what you brought with you when you sat out here, so I, uh, thought you might want some water." He motioned a little with the bottle while he talked, seeming awkward, almost uncomfortable. So unlike the cocky asshole I'd encountered Friday.

I responded with an icy stare and then recoiled as if the bottle contained poison. I focused all my anger and distain for him into that bottle. If I could have lit it on fire with my eyes, I would have. I'm serious; I would have watched that plastic melt down right over his fingers and give him third degree burns, and not even spit on his hand for relief.

But he was right; all of those granola bars had made me really thirsty and I'd finished off the water from my stainless steel travel bottle an hour ago, so my glare probably changed to a look of longing. With a resigned sigh I took the water from him gingerly with two fingers and then gave it a quick inspection for good measure.

He sighed and said, "The bottle is still sealed. I'm not trying to poison you or anything, see?" He reached over and made a twisting motion to emphasize his point.

"So, it's pretty hot out here today." He looked around squinting at the hot summer sun again. "I was thinking, maybe you might want to come and sit on the deck with me. The ocean breeze is really nice out there and it's gotta be a lot cooler than the inside of this prehistoric beast of a truck."

I crossed my arms and glared at him again. Who did he think he was? I certainly wasn't interested in sitting in his home and being made fun of some more! Although it was very thoughtful of him to bring me water. And he hadn't winked at me once so far. I wasn't sure how to mesh the version of Edward from Friday night with this one.

"Look, I'm not gonna beg. You wanna sit in the hot sun in your old-ass truck, it's fine by me. Your call."

Oh, there it was; the cocky jerk was back. Words failed me again and I let out a frustrated half-squeal. What was _with_ this guy? He talked to me like he was God's gift to womankind. I'm sorry, but that spot was taken long ago by Johnny Depp. If Edward thought it was open again just because Johnny was over forty now, he was sorely mistaken. People Magazine even had him as the Sexiest Man Alive last year. They clearly know their stuff.

He turned his back and headed toward the house, but there was hesitation in his step. Like he was waiting for something, or expecting something.

I spent a moment pondering. Being inside of his home could give me a distinct advantage as far as my notes for Mr. Masen were concerned. I was sure there would be some insight I could gain from watching him in his own environment, not to mention it was getting really hot in the cab of the truck. I had vowed to up the ante and show Mr. Masen I took this job seriously. Infiltrating the enemy, so to speak, would be a great strategy. "Wait, I'm coming." I stated firmly.

He turned back to me, initially with a smug look, but I watched it dissolve when I looked him directly in the eye. I wanted him to understand he had met his equal. "No bad innuendoes or crass remarks, got it?"

"I'm just trying to be a nice guy." He muttered softly, never breaking our gaze.

We'd see about that.

...

An hour later I was sipping iced tea from a pint glass while Edward drank a beer straight from the bottle. We reclined on plush cushioned lounge chairs that pointed toward the sea. His deck sat out over the dusty gray sand, spotted with rocks and driftwood as far as I could see. The private beaches were at least cleaner than the public sun bathing and surfing hot spots; no Doritos bags floating by, or broken glass where the surf met the sand. It was a beautiful day. So often summertime in Malibu meant "June Gloom" that didn't always burn off, but today the sun was strong and fierce. My hair even felt hot to the touch.

Our chatting had been awkward at first. I was uncomfortable and Edward was jittery, his knee bouncing up and down frantically. But eventually we eased into a flow of conversation that was neither overly-casual, nor cumbersome. I laughed when he made a joke about his friend Emmett, and he smirked when I talked about how much I loved working at Masen Publishing.

"You have red in your hair," Edward said, abruptly downing the last of his beer.

"Uh, yeah, only when the sun hits it," I said taken aback by the oddly-placed statement.

"So, I'm gonna head out for some lunch." He stood up, walked over to the railing of the deck, and leaned against it, the picture of calm and casual, with a touch of conceit. There was something off, though. He kept twisting the empty bottle in his hands, spinning it around and around. When he spoke again he didn't look at me, but instead stared at his hands while he methodically peeled the label off of the bottle in tiny little strip.

"I was thinking, I dunno, that maybe you would wanna come with me."

"Well, we both know I'm just going to follow you there anyway." The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. I squeezed my lips together, upset by my own bluntness.

"I meant, come _with_ me, like, in my car." His eyes flitted to me and then back to his beer bottle.

I contemplated what he was asking. I mean, it would certainly save wear and tear on the truck. He hadn't made a single rude remark the entire time we were chatting and as long as we went somewhere I could afford, it would be a lot more enjoyable than sitting in my truck watching and waiting. Also, my notes for Mr. Masen would be stellar. I could report every little detail right down to whether or not Edward had any food in his teeth, ruining his sexy, crooked smile.

I reached for my glass on the short patio table next to my chair, hoping to busy my mouth by drinking and thus prevent my signature word vomit. Instead, I was so flustered that I knocked the glass clear off the table, sending it skidding across the rough wood below and bumping against Edward's shoe.

I jumped down, grabbed the glass, and scrambled back over to the table where the tea slowed to a languid drip over its edge. "Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! Crickey, this is so embarrassing. I'll just, um, I'm gonna go find a towel. I hope the tea won't ruin your deck." I looked around at the weather-beaten wood and realized how ridiculous I sounded and hung my head in shame, still on my hands and knees.

Edward crouched next to me with a faded beach towel. I looked up into his blazing green eyes and froze, hoping the next thing he said wasn't something to further my humiliation. What I saw was the antithesis of cocky jerk-face Edward from the club. His expression was gentle, self-conscious, and somewhat guarded.

As he wiped it up he said simply and sweetly, "I just thought it might save you some gas. Besides, the conversation was kinda nice."

* * *

**A/N: We would like to share some recommendations with you as well as a little self pimp-age.**

I, TwireaderAbi, have written a o/s about Jake and Nessie. Now before you go all mental on me about "why would someone write a story without Edward?", just give it a chance. It's a dark tale that has been likened to a twisted _Little Red Riding Hood_. I'd truly appreciate it if you gave it a chance!

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6491691/1/Save_Me

ImwithPatz has some great recs for you to, I have quoted her opinions below:

Where the Sidewalk Ends

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6069010/1/Where_the_Sidewalk_Ends

"Amazing story of Edward falsely accused of murder and serving time in Alcatraz. Very original plot which I love!"

Source of Serendipity

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6105684/1/Source_of_Serendipity

"Isabella is a Medical student with a huge secret. Edward is just an angry man. Lots of UST and a great plot!"

Work of Art

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5882420/1/Work_of_Art

"Beautiful story of a temperamental artist and Isabella who is writing a book about him. Gorgeous scenarios and set in Malibu."


	8. Chapter 8

TwiReaderAbi and I are so happy at the response we are getting to this story. I know some people have commented that they cannot understand why we have such few reviews. Well we can't either. Push that button!

special special thanks to our Grammar cop, Irritable Grizzly. She makes us better.

Recommendations etc. at bottom.

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. TwiReaderAbi and I play with her characters and sometimes make them do dirty things. All recognizable detail, dialogue, or setting belongs to its respective author.**

_Oh, the places you'll go__! There is fun to be done!  
There are points to be scored. there are games to be won.  
And the magical things you can do with that ball  
will make you the winning-est winner of all.  
Fame! You'll be famous as famous can be,  
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV._

Except when they don't.  
Because, sometimes, they won't.

I'm afraid that sometimes  
you'll play lonely games too.  
Games you can't win  
'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone!  
Whether you like it or not,  
Alone will be something  
you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance  
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.  
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,  
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

But on you will go  
though the weather be foul  
On you will go  
though your enemies prowl  
On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl  
Onward up many  
a frightening creek,  
though your arms may get sore  
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike  
and I know you'll hike far  
and face up to your problems  
whatever they are. 

– _Dr. Seuss "Oh the Places you'll go"_

I could not get her out of my mind. This "Bella" girl. It had been an hour since she'd walked away from me. .down. Now I was in the back of the club in a private hallway, staying away from everyone, which wasn't like me. The old me would have had a girl hoovering my cock, and now here I was whining like a girl over…a girl. Said girl had really put me in my place. I was treading water here. When she first started following me, I found it a little annoying and sketchy at best. Then, I was intrigued. Tonight, after observing her and truly realizing how beautiful she was, I wanted her. Normally I could walk right up to a girl and take her an hour later. That's just the way it was, but this girl required more than a wink and a gin and tonic. I wanted to take her out. To wine and dine her. I vowed to myself at that moment that I would get her to give me a chance.

After Emmett dropped me off, I sat on the back porch and nursed a Peroni. That lonely feeling crept up on me, making me fully realize how damn sick I was of being by myself. I knew I could have had any girl from that club in my bed tonight, but what I was slowly realizing was that I didn't want just _any_ girl. I wanted a connection. I felt like a major pussy for even thinking about wanting someone who would stay the night, and then wake up in the morning and make me fucking pancakes while wearing my shirt, then fucking that woman on the table after we ate the pancakes. Then going BACK to bed. Shit, I wanted a girl I could fuck more than once and not get bored out of my mind. Someone I could have a conversation with. I wanted a Rosalie. I wanted the kind of relationship Alice and Jasper had.

With that, I went to bed. By myself. Again.

The next morning I woke up and realized it was almost 11am and I wasn't even out that late last night! I thought about what happened the night before and finally understood why Isabella didn't fall for any of my lines: She was different. The girls I had "dated", for lack of a better word, were empty. They couldn't have cared less what came out of my mouth because in reality, they were only after one thing: The same thing I was. And it was not a relationship. Isabella seemed smarter than that. I should have known, but really we had only spoken for five minutes. I wonder if she went out with that Jake guy. I heard her say she would call him, and I felt more than a little disturbed by that; more than I had any right to be, since she clearly didn't like me anyway. The tune "_Momma's Boy_" startled me out of my stupor, and I picked my phone off the nightstand and answered it.

"Morning, Mom," I said in the middle of a yawn and stretch.

"Hi Baby boy. I was just coming from Whole Foods and I have some groceries for you. Would it be okay if I stop by and make you some lunch? I miss you. I'm still in West Hollywood, so it should be another thirty minutes or so."

"Okay, I'm just waking up anyway, so I'll hop in the shower and leave the door unlocked for you."

One hour later, we were sitting on my back deck eating a lunch of grilled shrimp, tomato salad, and sourdough bread. I was starving and eating like I'd been on a desert island. Esme was just staring.

"What have you been doing to build up such an appetite?"

"Mom, there's this girl…" Whoa. Where did that come from?

"Oh, honey, I don't want to hear about your sexual exploits."

What…OH! "No mom. I don't mean it like that…" I looked down, embarrassed.

I saw her expression go from shock, to disbelief, to a happy stupor, and waited for what would come next, but nothing did. For the first time ever, she was speechless.

I hurried to explain. "She's not really "a girl." I mean she is a _girl_. But she doesn't like me. Well, I guess she really doesn't know me. Dad hired her to follow me—" That was where she cut me off.

"Carlisle asked her to follow you?" she said with a raised brow.

"Yeah. That's her job. Well, not really. I mean, she actually works for Masen, but he gave her an assignment to follow me and find out what I was up to," I explained, like it was no big deal my father had me followed.

She still sat there, taking it all in.

"Her name is Isabella," I offered.

"While I'm absolutely furious that Carlisle would pull something like this, you don't seem too upset, so I'll let it go. After all, I had him followed for a while too." She shrugged and went back to chewing on her sourdough.

"I was furious at first, and I let dad have it, but I think I would be angrier if it wasn't so comical. She drives this big red truck that probably can't go over twenty-five miles an hour, and she had all these obvious disguises. With all his money, he could have afforded a private investigator. I guess I wasn't important enough to spend the dough, or he didn't care if I found out."

I took a breath.

"Anyway, the thing is, I tried to talk to her last night and I messed it up. Now she clearly doesn't want anything to do with me beyond following me. I feel like I could make her life easier by working with her."

Esme gave me one of her patented "mom" looks.

"Oh who am I kidding. I think she's beautiful and would love to take her out." I took a large swig of Perrier and looked at my Mom. She seemed deep in thought.

"You've never been one to 'date' sweetie. You're more of a 'love 'em and leave 'em' type. But if this girl really interests you, just be nice. You want to be with a woman who appreciates nice, and not just someone looking for a bad boy. You have everything going for you. You're handsome, smart, and sweet."

"Mom, you have to say that. You're my Mom."

With that, she just ruffled my hair and began cleaning up lunch. I followed her inside to put the rest of the groceries away.

A couple of days later, I woke up early and went for a run on the beach. The days were starting to bleed into one other, and I realized that my carefree summer was a quickly sinking ship. I had about six weeks before D-Day and still had no idea what the heck I was going to do. If I didn't think of something quick, after Labor Day I would be walking into Dad's company, ready to work. I remembered how in Grade School they made you take those tests to see what career you'd be good at. I think I got "inconclusive." It probably ran the range from "fireman" to "rockstar." As a grown man, the test would probably still be inconclusive. All I knew was that I wanted to do something with musical instruments. Maybe I should give Norman a call and see if he had any ideas.

As I walked up the steps of my back deck, I saw the red truck was sitting in the driveway and I wondered how long she'd been there. I went inside and hopped into a cold shower, then dressed in a wifebeater and sweatpants.

As I was fixing breakfast, I looked out my window and realized she was still sitting out there. The joke about Southern California is that it's always seventy-four degrees and sunny, but some months could be unbearable, and we were definitely in the middle of a heat wave. She must be boiling. Maybe I could bring her some water. Would she take offense to that? I mean, my Mom told me to be nice, and water was nice. I agreed with myself and got the bottle out of the refrigerator.

As I was walking out, my cell phone rang. Alice. I hadn't spoken to her since the club, and I debated as to whether I should pick up. She could keep me on the phone for hours, and Bella would be a puddle by then. I loved my sister, but "no" or "I'm busy" went in one ear and out there other. She'd agree to end the call, but then just keep talking.. Most people interpreted Alice's behavior as hyper and annoying, but really she was just full of energy and knowledge. I always tried to be a good big brother, but really she took better care of me. Speaking of that, she usually gave good advice, and I needed it right now.

"Baby Sis" I said, and pulled out a cigarette. "I only have a few minutes, so make your point quickly."

"Edward! Who's Bella? You left without saying a word the other night. I have a feeling about this girl. I know you talked to mom about her and I want some information! So talk!"

I couldn't help but laugh. Alice always had way too much information going through her brain and she never allowed herself time to process it.

"I really can't say much about her Ali, since I don't know her that well. She works for Dad as his Assistant – I think. He hired her to follow me and I ended up falling for her – I think? Anyway, she's been sitting in my driveway in the heat, and I'd like to offer her some water. Is that a good idea?"

Alice gasped. Why was everyone so surprised I could be kind? Carlisle was a prick. He never changed his colors and always got an "A" for consistency.

I really had no clue what I was doing. I had experience with women, but the wrong kind. In this situation, I was clueless.

"Well what are you waiting for, Edward? Go bring the girl some water and invite her in to talk! To TALK, Edward! Start by not making any sexual innuendos! Don't make her feel uncomfortable! She's not one of your Bimbos. Invite her in to sit with you. Make her lunch. DON'T TOUCH HER. Like I said, I have a feeling about this girl and you know I'm always right!"

"Thanks, Alice. You really are a great sister."

"I know. Now GO!"

I rolled my eyes, hung up, and headed outside.

Squinting into the sweltering sun, I looked over to her and realized she was engrossed in something she was reading on her phone. A text? From Jacob? My heart skipped a beat as I knocked lightly on her window. I felt a little uncomfortable, but I was trying so hard not to be cocky and sarcastic. See, mom? I could be nice.

She looked at me as if I had insulted her mother and made a face at the bottle like maybe it contained poison. I half-expected her to tell me and my water to go fuck ourselves.

"How's it going? You must be really really hot. Does this piece of…truck have air conditioning?"

She looked at me, then down, and then back at me. Was she having trouble speaking? She certainly had no trouble talking the other night.

I invited her into the house.

I turned and walked away.

One..

Two..

Three…

I heard the truck door creak and open. Time for me to prove I was a "nice" guy.

...

A little while later, we were sitting on deck chairs drinking cold beer and watching the occasional surfer. It was a beautiful day, despite the heat. I couldn't say that I felt immediately comfortable with her, because she seemed at first a bit of an odd duck, but there was a certain beauty in her features. An air about her that said, "I know who I am and where I'm going," which I found oddly attractive. Our conversation flowed as we discussed everything from friends to our favorite things about California, and even Masen Publishing, though happily enough, Carlisle was never mentioned. She was easy to talk to and had a sharp sense of humor.

I wanted more.

For the first time in a long time, I thought about what the girl might want. She didn't seem like the fancy type. I was a regular at Geoffrey's and Taverna Tony's. I thought about the view at Geoffrey's and how we could sit outside and watch the water while we ate. Then I thought of something better.

"I'm getting hungry. Would you like to join me for lunch?"

As she contemplated my offer, she reached for her glass and it went skidding across my deck, landing on my shoe. She jumped up, grabbed the glass, and almost slid back over to her table, looking mortified. I felt bad for her because there was nothing to be embarrassed about

I took her hand and pulled her up. "You must be starving after sitting in your truck all that time. I know a great place that's really chill and has the best burgers." I felt weird asking again but I wanted to make sure she heard me…

"Ok" she said softly.

Still holding her hand, we walked out to my truck.

She looked a bit confused when ten minutes later, we pulled up to the Malibu Pier.

"Ruby's Shake Shack?" She shook her head, but seemed intrigued.

"I thought we could get our burgers and shakes and sit out on the pier and people watch. "

"That sounds perfect!" she said, and actually sounded a little excited.

Once we ordered and found a bench, we both dug in. I loved that she didn't seem embarrassed about how she ate with gusto, or the little moans she made while eating her burger. She was fully focused and while it was definitely a turn-on, I kept it to myself, remembering what Alice said about sexual innuendoes. However, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. It was a pleasure just to watch her eat. Girls who enjoyed their food always made me happy. She really was beautiful. Her skin was pale and flawless. She wasn't just beautiful, she was stunning.

"Do you come here a lot?" Bella asked while balling up her burger wrapper.

"Yeah, I have to admit, I do. I was raised on much fancier food, but there's nothing like sitting and watching the surf while enjoying an amazing burger. My best friend, Emmett, has a dog that I take here sometimes. I let her run up and down the beach while I eat. I thought you might like it here too."

"It's perfect." She looked out at the ocean for a moment. "What kind of dog does Emmett have?"

"Oh, a Wolfhound."

"Really? I love dogs."

"Well maybe we can come back here sometime and bring Lily. You know, when you're not officially being paid to follow me. We can be slugs and eat burgers while the dog gets all the exercise. What do you think?"

**A/N: We would like to share some recommendations with you as well as a little self pimp-age.**

TwireaderAbi, has written two one-shots that are amazing. I am linking them below. Make sure to leave her some love! Recently her O/S "Ornamental Faith" won Public Voting Round in the Nighmare before Christmas Contest!

Ornamental Faith

Summary - Edward's tortured soul hurts all that much more deeply on the most sacred of all holidays. Who will he take with him as he paves the road to Hell with the best intentions? Rated M for violent themes and sexual content. Winner of the Public Voting Round for Nightmare Before Christmas Contest.

http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6597595/1/Ornamental_Faith

And of course Save Me!

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6491691/1/Save_Me

A Dark and Twisted O/S about Jacob and Nessie. What if Nessie wasn't born the perfect little vampire-human hybrid? What would a vampire in a child's body really be like? What would it mean to Jacob? NO LEMONS Rated M for dark themes and graphic violence.

Both are amazing!

TwireaderAbi and I (ImwithPatz) have some great recs for you also!

Ride by KrisSalvador

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6253744/1/Ride

Great Plot! Amazing Lemons! What else do you need?

Love is the End by Phoebe's Promise

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6445022/1/

If he had only spoken the right words at the right time she would be his forever. Instead, they ache, love and long for each other in silence. A bittersweet love story desperately searching for a happily ever after. E/B, AH, M.

And for something a little on the lighter side…

Dear Mr. Masen – A collaboration between Jennde and BellaDonna1472

This is hilarious. The premise is an email exchange between the CFO of a major corporation and the new techie in the basement. I literally had tears coming down my face I was laughing so hard. Give it a read! It's short and fun!

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6483877/1/

Until next time…..

BiCoastalTwiGirls 3


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to ImwithPattz for not firing me yet and Irritable_Grizzzly for serving as an under-paid but much appreciated fixer of all things TRP. **

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a 3 dogs and a half eaten package of cinnamon Trident.**

* * *

Our time on the pier was quiet. We didn't talk much and for once I kept my overactive mouth shut. It may have been the amazing burger I kept shoving into it. I didn't grow up with greasy, fast-food like that, and Renee always talked about the industry with its non-organic ingredients and low nutritional value as if it was poison on a platter, but I decided to put on my big girl undies and give it a chance. When he asked if it was okay, I told him it was perfect. Well, at least the prices were, but I didn't want to ruin this chance of a full day of getting one-on-one notes. I could imagine Mr. Masen singing my praises now. His face would be beaming with pride when I showed him how much more information I could provide with this kind of intimate interaction.

The grease splotches on the white paper bag did nothing to ease my concern over dropping dead on our walk back down the pier. We sat on a bench and watched the ocean span out in front of us. It seemed like there was no end to it; just miles and miles of gray and blue mixing together until a distinct line was drawn across the horizon, marking where the water ended and the sky began. I gingerly unwrapped my burger, and took a timid bite. It was like thousand fireworks of flavor exploded on my taste buds! I'd had burgers of all kinds in my life, and I make a mean turkey burger if I do say so myself, but this was cheap meat and wilted lettuce turned into majesty. I closed my eyes and moaned just a little with the second huge unabashed bite. I noticed Edward looked at me out of the corner of his eye a few times as if there was something he wanted to say, but he just kept eating fries, cramming three and four in his mouth at a time.

Initially when he asked me to go to lunch with him, my heart jumped into my throat. The crush I was developing on Edward was planting roots. Not the short little roots of a brightly-colored garden flower, but rather the deep snarled roots of one of those fast-growing weeds painted in deep greens and lurid purples. It took serious self-restraint to keep my wits about me and focus on the task at hand. This was not a date, it was work, and any part of me that had begun to hope differently was quickly squelched when he told me how he brought his friend Emmett's dog there with him and so he thought I might like it, too. I bristled, feeling like he'd just compared me to a dog, but brushed it off, thankful that at least he hadn't acted like a cocky jerk once all day.

I was feeling comfortable in his presence as we strolled along the pier, stopping to watch the sea lions play in the waves, laughing at two sea gulls as they fought over a stray food wrapper. I was quiet, so contrary to my usual self. It didn't take much work, since I was busy denying my intense physical reaction to him. It was undeniable that he was gorgeous, but seeing this side of him was slowly chipping away at my opinion that he was an egotistical jerk. It was easy to ignore his pretty face when he was spewing innuendo and belittling remarks at me, but seeing him like this, just relaxed, wearing the bemused expression of a child as he leaned over the pier looking out at the waves…well, let's just say I could hear the Cinderella music in the distance.

I had to remind myself that this was just one afternoon with him and I was in no position to let myself get all starry-eyed. At the word "position" my mind wandered to the Kama Sutra book Angela had given me in college to try to encourage me to "go all the way" with Peter. The erotic images shocked me so much at the time and I tried to force myself NOT to imagine doing any of those things with Peter.

Fortunately, Edward's voice pulled me out of my spiral. "Bella? You okay?" I blushed furiously when I looked at his face after having such inappropriate thoughts clouding my mind.

"Sure, sure, I'm just getting hot." Oh. Em. Gee. What is wrong with me? "I mean it's hot out here, so maybe we can find some shade?" That's what I get for letting my guard down. I never failed to embarrass myself. I was going to have to buy myself a new pair of shoes if I continued to put my foot in my mouth like this.

"Man, you're really turning red! I think you might be getting a sunburn on your cheeks. We'd better get you outta the sun." He wrapped his slender fingers around my wrist to lead the way back to the car, but I was rooted to the spot. I had felt a little odd when he held my hand on the deck earlier, but I attributed that to my colossal failure of spilling my drink all over his deck. This was different; there was no confusing this excitement with shame. The feeling that ignited in my body from his touch was straight out of a Julia Roberts movie. I felt jittery, my heart pounded out of my chest, my legs had turned to Jell-o, and I didn't dare try to take a step because the outcome would inevitably lead to me toppling over the railing and crushing a filthy pigeon beneath my clumsy limbs.

I closed my eyes, hoping if I cut off the visual image of Edward, the physical effect would lessen. No such luck. I opened them again to find him with a look of concern, but when he looked into my eyes it quickly morphed into a crooked, cocky grin.

"I usually have that effect on women."

Yep, that did it. All of the feelings of excitement and, dare I say, lust, were squelched immediately with that one look, that one mocking sentence. I quickly reminded myself who I was dealing with here - Edward, my boss's son, spoiled boy of leisure, arrogant ass from the club - not Prince Charming. I righted myself and visualized the checklist of goals posted on my bathroom mirror, ticking off each one as I regained my composure. Edward was my job and I would do well to remember that, as social as our afternoon may have felt.

"Thank you Edward, I'm fine. I felt a little faint from the heat but I'm okay. We should go. I'm sure you've got something important to do like spend some more of your dad's money. Let's get back so I can get my truck and follow you like I'm supposed to, okay?" I stomped my way down the uneven planks in the direction of his fancy rich-boy SUV.

Edward jogged a couple of steps up to me, but I didn't slow down my angry march. Then he turned, walking backwards as he talked to me.

"Shit. Bella, look, I'm sorry. Alice told me to be nice to you. I...I just, I dunno. I'm not used to talking to girls. Don't be mad, okay?"

I stopped and stood there dumbfounded. It didn't last long.

"Alice _told_ you to be nice to me? What do you mean she _told_ you to be nice to me? Why were you even talking to Alice about me? Was she checking up on me for Mr. Masen? Oh, Cracker Jacks! You better not have told her anything bad Edward. I swear to you if you get me in trouble with him, I will write in my notes what you said to me at the club that night." I narrowed my eyes, uncrossing my arms and gesturing in frustration, then crossing them over my chest again. I caught him staring at the cleavage I was unintentionally displaying and huffed, moving my hands to my hips, showing him I was still waiting for him to answer my question.

"Alice called earlier, she knows from dad about me being your "assignment" and told me to be nice to you. Did you just say 'Cracker Jacks?' " He kept looking at me. "Wait, you know Alice?" He ran his hands through his hair, looking down and then back at me, a slight flash of anger in his eyes, but then his whole demeanor changed, his shoulders relaxed, and he gave me a cautious smile.

"You're saying you take notes on me and give them to my dad..." he paused and shook his head a little, maybe in disbelief, "but you didn't tell him about the club?"

"Not exactly. I mean, yes, I take notes on you, very thoroughly might I add, because I take this job seriously no matter how unorthodoxed Mr. Masen's assignment might be. But no, I didn't write the details of what you said to me in my notes." I crossed my arms again, but then dropped them to my sides when I remembered why they were on my hips in the first place.

"Why didn't you, Bella? I was an ass to you. I'd think you wouldn't be able wait to rat me out to Carlisle." He wasn't smiling; he seemed to be genuinely asking me. The depths of my desire to avoid telling him the truth of why I didn't put those specific details in my Monday morning email to Mr. Mason knew no bounds. Telling him I was humiliated would be, well, humiliating. So I twisted the truth, emphasizing my job performance over his stinging mockery from that night.

"I didn't want Mr. Masen to be upset at me for interfering in your life. He specifically said I was perfect for the assignment because I would blend into the background and be invisible." I flinched a little when I said that last part and Edward's eyes widened before a hardened look settled across his face.

"I will not fail at this Edward. I have plans for my future at Masen Publishing. I know this is a test to see how loyal I am to the company, a hoop to jump through, but if I succeed, I know Mr. Masen will see just how valuable I am. I'm not going to let your childish behavior get in the way of my plan."

A breeze had finally picked up, taking some of the oppressive heat with it. A piece of my hair had come loose from my ponytail, blowing across my face as I ranted about my future and my "plans", yelling my frustrations at Edward while I fought against the constantly growing suspicion that this "special assignment" was not as much of a stepping stone as I'd hoped. He reached out and tucked it back behind my ear, his expression unreadable.

"Bella, don't let my stupidity ruin our day. I've had a good time and it had to be better than sitting in your truck all day. Let's just go. It's after four, and you probably want to head home soon."

"Uh-uh. No can-do Edward. I still have to take notes on you."

He put his arm around me as we walked to the car, his hand draped lazily over my right shoulder in a friendly manner. I did my best to ignore the crackle of electricity I felt from his touch and concentrated on keeping my guard up.

"Don't sweat it B. I'll tell you my plans for the night and you can call it a day. Deal?"

Stupid charming, pretty, rich boy. I sighed in resignation as he opened the car door for me. "Fine, but only once. I swear to God, Edward, you'd better not screw this up for me or I'll have your ass."

"Why Bella, did you just swear?" He chuckled, revving the engine and taking off down PCH.

I buried my face in my hands. "Great, you're rubbing off on me already."

He smirked at me, rolled the windows down, and turned the radio up.

...

Wednesday night I was sprawled across my couch trying to get some relief from the heat. There was no breeze whatsoever and my old rental didn't come with central air. I had one of those giant square fans propped in front of the sliding glass door to the patio. It whirred and roared, but didn't really move much air. I was lamenting the ineptitude of the person who engineered it to Angela, when my phone beeped.

"It's probably my dad. Hold on Ange, ok?"

Angela was always understanding about my close relationship with my dad while other friends had told me I was weird and called me a "daddy's girl." They just didn't understand. I had spent years without his strong, reliable presence in my life. Charlie might not have been a warm man, but he loved me and I could always count on him. That was enough.

When I answered I was surprised that it wasn't Charlie's voice that greeted me, but instead Jake's booming voice. "Hey Bella! I'm glad I caught you!"

"Hey Jake, how are you?" I was genuinely glad to hear from him, but something twisted in my stomach too.

"Good, good. How's your week going?" he asked like it was a question he truly wanted to know the answer to, not merely a formality .

"Things are good. It's great to hear from you Jake but I have a girlfriend on the other line, can I call you back in a little while?" I always thought it was rude to hang up on the person you were already talking to, and Angela was waiting so politely on the other end. My mom always hung up if I answered a call that came in; her attention span couldn't handle it.

"Oh hey, no problem. Lemme just ask you really quick: Are you available Friday night? If you are, I'd love to take you out again."

The boy was nothing if not honest and to the point. I liked that about him. I never had to guess what the look on his face meant or why he was being nice, or not nice for that matter. He was the polar opposite of Edward. Thinking of him, my mind seemed to retaliate against the way my heart fluttered and I couldn't accept Jake's invitation fast enough.

"I'd love to go out with you."

"Great, I'll pick you up at seven. Dress casual and bring a jacket. Oh and Bella, I really can't wait to see you again. I haven't been able to get our last date out of my head."

I sat there with my mouth hanging open. His forthrightness was refreshing. Most guys tried to act all cool. I ended my call with him and tapped back over to Angela only to hear her hollering at her cat to get off the curtains. Yeesh, that cat scared me.

"Hey Ange, I'm back." I heard the trepidation in my own voice and shook my head to snap myself out of it.

"What's wrong, is Charlie ok?" she sounded concerned and a little panicky.

"No, no, it's wasn't my dad. Actually, it was that guy Jake I went out with the other night. He called me for a second date. He said he couldn't wait to see me again. No one has ever said that to me." My whole body was heated with mild embarrassment.

She giggled and then we both squealed.

...

Friday came and I expected it to be like every other day had been that week. I would park in front of Edward's house, he would come out and bring me water or a soda, or maybe a snack of some sort. We would chat, and then I'd follow him wherever he went for the day. It had been a terribly monotonous week of following him to the gym, a restaurant, then home. Lather, rinse, repeat. He hadn't asked me in or to go to lunch with him again, and I was rather relieved to be back to our normal routine, only a little friendlier. Angela and I had both agreed that Edward was trouble and too much interaction with him would only cause me problems. As enjoyable as he was to look at, his effect on my mental state was questionable and I believed that we both seemed to be happier with some distance between us.

I say that in past-tense though, because the conversation that ensued on Friday when he brought me my daily refreshment was confusing and infuriating, leaving me upset and in serious need of cucumber slices on my eyes before my date with Jake. It turned out this was the very crux of the problem, but for the life of me, I didn't understand why Edward had such a problem with him.

I sipped my water while we discussed our plans for the weekend. He was non-committal and avoided discussing them, mumbling something about not knowing the right thing to do and running out of time. It was like watching the homeless schizophrenic guy I bought hot dogs for every week, arguing with himself. I didn't think Edward would be placated with a package of Ball Parks, so in an effort to reduce the growing awkwardness, I babbled about Jake calling and asking me out for a second date. It didn't work, having quite the opposite effect, actually. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Edward would react the way that he did.

"Edward. Why are you so angry about this?" I asked him in complete disbelief. He was having a total temper tantrum. "You need to calm down. The vein on your forehead is bulging. Geez-o-man Edward, are you having a stroke?" He didn't appear to be breathing. His jaw was clenched tight and his hands were balled into fists at his side. He looked like a child about to flip out after being told he couldn't have a new toy.

"I'm not. I'm just worried about you. He doesn't look like a safe guy, Bella. You met him at a club, so how do you know he won't chop you up into little pieces and keep them under his bed?" He pulled at the mess of hair on his head while he lectured me.

"He was a perfect gentleman on our first date. If he was going to 'chop me up into little pieces' he had ample opportunity," I retorted. Then I tried to lighten the mood. "Besides, how do I know one day you won't invite me in and then chain me to a wall in your secret dungeon?" I stuck my tongue out at him and he finally relaxed, chuckling a little.

"I know, I know. I just feel very ... protective of you, Bella." He didn't look at me when he said it.

"Look, I know you have some weird "older brother" thing going on with me here," He looked shocked, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Older _brother_?" His hand fell from the door

What was his deal? And why was it that everything I said seemed to pour gasoline on the fire?

"Yeah, maybe because I remind you of Alice or something. Anyway, I can take care of myself. Jake's a good guy. He's nice, and sweet, and good-looking, and he really wants to see me again, and I feel the same way." As I remembered Jake's blatant declaration, I got a dreamy smile on my face.

Holy Crow that was the wrong thing to say. I didn't know what I had done, but Edward seemed to become inhumanly still before his whole demeanor relaxed, save for the fire shooting at me from his eyes. The crooked smirk and arrogant aloofness had settled into his features. He looked like the Edward from the club again, not the one that had been bringing me Perrier all week.

"Oh sure, you would wanna see him again. Sweet, innocent, little Bella, ripe for the picking. Yeah, I'm sure he was _reeeeeal _nice to you on your first date. A 'perfect gentleman.' Asked you all kinds of questions about yourself, even held doors for you, am I right?" He laughed a little, I wasn't sure if it was at himself or me, but then he continued, "This Jake guy isn't any different from the rest of them, Bella. The rest of _us_. He wants to tap that tight little ass of yours, and he doesn't give a shit about you. Have fun tonight."

And with those horrible, harsh words, he walked away leaving me trembling with anger, and the fear that maybe, just maybe, Edward knew what he was talking about.

"You're such a jerk!" was all I was able to shout after him before starting my car and for the first time since I was assigned to watch Edward Masen's every move, I didn't care where he went for the rest of the day, but I sure knew where I wanted to tell him to go.

That was how I ended up lying on my bed with slices of cucumber on my eyes twenty minutes before Jake was supposed to pick me up. As much as I didn't want to, I had cried when Edward shoved in my face how naive I was and how little I knew about men and dating. After getting a grip on my insecurities and regaining my composure, I put Edward's stinging comments out of my head. I knew who I was and I wouldn't let a guy take advantage of me. If that's the kind of guy Jake was, he would show his true colors soon enough. In the meantime, I wouldn't let Edward get inside my head and give me doubts where they didn't belong.

Throwing on jeans and a flowing peasant blouse, I figured I looked casual but still cute enough for a date. When I opened the door, there was Jake with a bouquet of vibrant fuchsia Gerbera daisies. He bounded into the living room and said their bright color reminded him of my laugh. My heart was warmed by his gentle gesture and the last of Edward's skepticism floated away. I slipped into my sandals, grabbed my favorite hoodie, and we headed out the door.

Much to my surprise, Jake brought me to a beach bonfire party where I met many of his friends, as well as one of his sisters. We helped ourselves to some of the last few pieces of pizza and grabbed a bottle of beer from the copious amount of coolers that were also serving as chairs. It was a nice evening, but I was glad Jake had told me to bring a jacket since the evening breeze picked up and chilled the air while we dug our toes into the still-warm sand. Two by two, couples settled into their own private worlds as the sun disappeared and the fire burned strong, warming our skin and casting sensual shadows on our surroundings. Some had gone for a stroll down by water, while others danced close to the soft sounds of romantic songs from a playlist that was transparently made to encourage the evening's festivities. Jake and I sat on a cooler near the bonfire, laughing and joking in casual conversation. When he asked how my week was at work, I tried to brush it off, but Jake was perceptive and kept pushing for information.

"C'mon Bella, I can tell something is really bothering you. You got really quiet and did that little pouty thing with your bottom lip when I brought it up. I'm a good listener, now talk."

My story started out slow and measured as I leaned against Jake's shoulder talking about high aspirations and the promise of things to come, laid out against a backdrop of hurdle-jumping and attempts to please. When I got to more recent occurrences of friendly lunches and infuriating arguments, I became agitated, jumping up and flailing my arms in my signature way as I paced back in forth in front of the fire.

"And, AND, and he said you just wanted to sleep with me! Can you believe the nerve of him?" I planted my hand on my hip in a defiant stance as if Edward could see me. It was at that moment Jake pulled me down onto his lap, his laugh full of life and happiness.

"Bella, who cares what that asshole thinks? Seeing you like this, all fired up and full of passion about life and love and hate, is so much sexier than your ass in those jeans, which I'm not ashamed to say is rather nice. And while he's right about how badly I want to touch you, he's wrong about one thing: I like you so much Bella."

He rubbed his thumb along my knuckles while he spoke and I blushed from head to toe from his compliments. I had calmed from my ranting and raving, feeling comfortable instead of self-conscious about my behavior. Jake made me feel like everything about me was not just okay, but good; right. He tilted my head up to his and I mirrored back his shy smile. His kiss started out slowly, with trepidation, but quickly grew more eager and ardent, and as much I as I desperately wanted to feel an intense attraction to him, I simply didn't. My mind wandered back to the feeling of Edward's fingers wrapped around my wrist. I opened my eyes and pulled back, searching his eyes for the same feeling that overtook me when I was looking into Edward's eyes. It wasn't there and my heart was saddened by the reality of my predicament.

"Jake, I like you so much too. I really do."

His face fell. "But?"

"But, something is missing. I'm sorry, I'm trying so hard, but as great as I feel when I'm with you, there just isn't any spark. Do you feel a spark? I wanna feel a spark with you, I do! You're so good and you're so nice and you're kinda beautiful." I clamped my hand over my mouth. I swear I was never gonna stop embarrassing myself with my word vomit.

He stood and pulled me up with him. Dusting sand off his lap, he looked completely unaffected by anything I'd just said. I was perplexed and uncomfortable from his lack of response, so I just followed his lead, grabbing my sandals and clearing away our empty beer bottles.

"C'mon, Bella, let's call it a night." He grabbed my hand and led my back to his car, all the while smiling and relaxed. Once inside the car, he turned on our seat heaters to take the chill off. I sat gaping at him while he drove and hummed along to the quiet melody that filled the car. He still hadn't acknowledged anything I'd said and the silence finally broke me.

"Jake! Don't you have anything to say? I mean, I just rejected you and you're acting like I said I preferred green apples to red! You're not gonna tell me I'm stupid or call me names? Granted I haven't had much experience with rejecting guys, but I've seen it play out plenty of times with other people and every time the _rejectee_ gets really pissed at the _rejector_." See, me and silence, we are not friends. I could not keep my mouth shut.

Jake was just Jake though, and he gave a light laugh before he responded. "Bella, you didn't reject me."

"I didn't?"

"Look, you 'like me so much too', right?"

"Right."

"And you think I'm good and nice, right?"

"Absolutely. You're one of the nicest guys I've ever met."

"And I'm 'kinda beautiful' right?"

I covered my face with my hands, nodding underneath them.

"Okay, then I'm not giving up. You like me Bella, there's no denying it, and I'm gonna be right here. I'm gonna be right here with you until you realize just how much. You didn't reject me. There may not be a spark right now, but there will be, you'll see."

I was so shocked by his attitude, his confidence and determination that we had something, or at least could have something, that I don't think I said another word the entire ride home. Jake didn't kiss me goodbye at the door, but instead gave me a big warm hug and said he had a great night and would call me soon. I shook my head, shocked by the odd turn the evening had taken as I locked the door behind me. Amused and happy, I settled in to bed, only to be tortured all night long by dreams of searing green eyes and sinful smirks.

* * *

**So, I get it, you all want lemons. I see that you're holding the reviews hostage until you get some down and dirty ExB. It's on the way my lovelies. Please review despite the lack of smut. **

Here are some recs to fill that, ahem, void, in the mean time.

TwireaderAbi Recs:

Sexy Silk by jlho http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6659413/1/Sexy_Silk

Sluggerward and Snarkella. Car Sex. Need I say more. (Side note:has caused the resurgence of my cinnamon gum addiction from my teenage years)

Still of the Night by St_Angel_S http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6204656/1/Still_of_the_Night

If you are a fan of the TV series Supernatural, like I am, this is a fantastic story that puts the Twilight characters into the world of hunters...with lemons.

ImwithPattz Recs:

Some Life in Me by PinkPixieChick

http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5679205/1

All the Wild Horses by ElusiveTwilight

http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6435667/1

Comes and Goes by AlexaET

http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6460615/1


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter is in loving memory of Jackson McCoy. He was one of our first reviewers and made us laugh with his comments. He will be missed!

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns. We don't. Surprised?

Thanks to my lovely co-author TwiReaderAbi for her insight, comments and general patience regarding this chapter. I can see eye rolls even across the country. I'm good like that. Thanks also to Irritable Grizzzly. She betas this hot mess and makes it look presentable with commas and everything. To say she rocks would be an understatement.

Congratulations to TwiReaderAbi on winning Judge's Choice in the Bathed in Black contest for Save Me! Go Check it out!

http://p/bathed-in-black-contestDOThtml

There is a bit of citrus ahead. Just a taste…

Let's see what these crazy kids are up to.

_I don't care if monday's black  
tuesday wednesday heart attack  
thursday never looking back  
it's friday I'm in love_

monday you can hold your head  
tuesday wednesday stay in bed  
orthursday watch the walls instead  
it's friday I'm in love

saturday wait  
and sunday always comes too late  
but friday never hesitate...

dressed up to the eyes  
it's a wonderful surprise  
to see your shoes and your spirits rise  
throwing out your frown  
and just smiling at the sound  
and as sleek as a shriek  
spinning round and round  
always take a big bite  
it's such a gorgeous sight  
to see you in the middle of the night  
you can never get enough  
enough of this stuff  
it's friday  
I'm in love 

_The Cure - Friday I'm in Love_

I .believe she was going out with that Jake guy again. I was steaming, beyond pissed. What was she thinking? This guy was a total punk. Well, I didn't actually know him, but he just couldn't be good enough for her. Because, to be honest, she was pretty great. She made me laugh. She was smart. And she was beautiful, but not in the usual way you would define the word. Her beauty came through because she was so quirky and funny. There was nothing fake about her. I mean, even her breasts looked real.

I knew she was really mad at me right now and that I had acted like an asshole. If it came right down to it, I couldn't admit I was jealous. I was also maybe a little hurt. I thought we'd had a great time the other day. It wasn't like we were exclusive, but I guess I was just caught off-guard.

I had to get her to go out with me again and I went over my list of date options. It had to be something different. Even with this heat, I couldn't see taking her to the pool party at the Roosevelt Hotel. We would both be uncomfortable and I felt like I had to keep her away from people who actually knew me, especially all the women I'd fucked there.

I could bring her to any restaurant in Los Angeles but again, she didn't seem like the kind of girl who would be impressed by that either. I was at a loss. Movies? So cliché. That would be somewhere that Jacob would take her. Then I came up with something. My Father frequently donated to the Getty Museum. I could ask her if she wanted to take the Garden tour. I smiled and gave myself a pat on the back. It would be our first "date".

Man, I was turning into such a pussy, but I had to get myself in there before Jake sunk his claws into her. He took her out on dates and opened doors for her and shit. Every time I got near her, I said or did something incredibly asshole-ly. That needed to change and it would start by me asking her on a date and being sincere about it. I couldn't wait until Monday morning.

I ended up going out with Emmett Sunday night to the Key Club where we drank way too much. Sure, I had girls approaching me all night, but after seeing how natural Bella was, all these girls seemed so "plastic" to me. I loved how great she looked in just a tank top and jeans. Even with no cleavage sticking out and loose-fitting jeans, she looked beautiful. I actually _wanted_ to see how she looked first thing in the morning. I smiled to myself in anticipation. What has happened to me? It was like a switch was flicked and I couldn't go back to that other guy.

Monday morning, I ended up waking up really late. I immediately ran to the kitchen window and sure enough she was out there. I could only see her feet on the passenger side window and smiled as she wiggled her bare toes. I decided to shower and shave before I went out there. I'd never really asked a girl out on a date before and it wasn't like I could practice on Emmett, though I should have asked for his advice. Too late now. Maybe I should call Alice. No. There was no way in hell I was practicing on my sister. That would be way too creepy. I could possibly just call for advice, but sometimes she could be really focused, like the last time, and others she could go on for days and she'd wind up psyching me out even more. I'd just have to wing it and pray for the best.

After showering, shaving, and trying to tame the 'fro, I went to grab her a beverage. I looked at my selection. The Perrier could seem too snooty, but the Diet Coke would make her think I thought she was fat. In the end I went for the Perrier, figuring it was the safest choice. She already thought I was kind of pretentious.

She watched me as I approached her truck. Then she laughed and I had to smile. As she sat up slowly, she looked at me as if I might bite her. I held out the Perrier and she took it cautiously

.

"Bella." Cool as a fuckin' cucumber. Masen strikes again.

"Hey," she said as she narrowed her eyes. I stared back quietly. As excited as I was to ask her out on my first "real" date ever, she was not going to win this stare-off.

She lasted all of five seconds. I smiled in triumph.

"So, are you here to tell me I'm an idiot again?" I raised an eyebrow. I didn't even remember calling her an idiot. I may have thought it at one point, but had I really said it out loud?

"I never called you an idiot." I tried to sound sure of myself.

"You're right, you never specifically said the words, but you implied it, which I think is actually worse," she said in a snarky tone of voice.

I tried to hide the smile on my face by running my hand over it. Looking everywhere but at her, I asked if she had a good weekend, wanting to only hear a negative answer, mind you.

"Why don't you tell me? You're the one with the psychic abilities.

Well Masen, you win some, you lose some. She's got you there, sucker. You opened that bag of worms all by yourself. This REALLY wasn't going at all like I'd planned. I was afraid to open my mouth at this point. Then she started laughing hysterically, and I gave up, just staring at her intently.

.Fuck?

"Shit Bella, why do you do that to me?" I asked her, a little – no strike that, a lot - confused. What was she laughing at?

"Do what?" she asked. "I'm just being me, Edward.

I kept my mouth shut, waiting for her to continue.

"Look, I'm sorry, but one day you bring me Perrier or take me out to lunch, and the next you're making fun of me. It's like being friends with Sybil!"

"I don't make fun of you!" I argued, clearly confused. Maybe this chick was just too smart for me. Or crazy? Too crazy for me?

"You do so!

"I do not!"

"Are we seriously going to argue like four-year-olds? It doesn't matter. I'm on to you," She stated, like she'd won whatever fight she'd started, fought, and ended while I stood there confused as hell.

"I didn't mean to make fun of you. I just didn't like hearing that you were going out with Jake again."

"I don't know why you're so protective. Do I seem that vulnerable?" She rolled her eyes and to be honest, I was a little turned on.

"I was jealous." I said quietly, almost hoping she hadn't heard me.

"Wait, I'm sorry, it sounded like you said you were jealous," she laughed.

Suddenly a light went on in her eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief. She knew. She knew I wanted to ask her out. This might be easier than I thought.

"Oh my God, you're gay!" She screamed, loud enough so the dudes out surfing in the Pacific a half a mile away all stopped what they were doing and turned around. "I should have known! Edward, I'm so sorry I didn't see it before. I didn't mean to steal your man. No wonder you got so mad at me. Jake, well, it's pretty clear he's straight, but I can totally help you find a boyfriend. I'm a good wingman, er, wingwoman. I don't know all the gay hotspots, but I can ask around or Google it or something. Wait! My hairdresser is gay! Maybe he can…"

I couldn't stop her if I tried. I was mortified. For her. For me. For the Surfers.

"What the Hell are you talking about? I'm not gay! I want you! Not that Jake asshole! You!"

Like ten minutes went by with silence as thick as the oppressive heat. She seemed to be lost inside her head. I may as well not have been there.

Suddenly she looked up with a smile and grabbed my thumb. Yes weird, but she was an odd duck. Nonetheless, there was a definite tingle.

***************************************TPR**************************************

I knew this week would drag by. I was so excited that she seemed to like the Getty museum idea because I'd been nervous that maybe museums weren't her thing. I didn't mention the gardens because she'd never been there, so I wanted it to be a surprise. I needed a few tricks up my sleeve. The plan was that she would come here early Saturday afternoon and then we'd drive over to the museum together. We would, of course, take my truck. There was no way I was riding in that contraption. I had an image to uphold.

And drag by it did. I almost wished I had asked her on Friday so I wouldn't have had to wait five days. Of course, I saw her every day and always brought her water. But I also tried to keep busy. I had lunch with Esme, lunch with Carlisle, and went over to Emmett's every afternoon to take Lily out for a walk on the pier. I usually went out at night and had a beer or two.

I was propositioned more this week than ever before. I think it had to do with my nonchalance.

In the mornings, I ran on the beach. Thursday, I took a ride to Norman's and looked around. I hoped that one day I could take Bella there. I didn't know if she liked music or instruments and would have to remember to ask her. Girls liked when you asked them things.

Friday night I went over to Emmett's house for dinner. He was giving me advice while Rosalie tried to counter everything he said.

"So, should I get her flowers?"

"I wouldn't bring her anything. She might think you're trying to buy her love or expect something in return," Emmett said in a very serious voice.

"What time are you picking her up?" Rosalie asked as she dished out salad.

"I'm not. It doesn't make any sense for me to go into Studio City to pick her up and then come back out to Malibu to go to the Museum." I suddenly felt bad for not offering to pick her up. I sucked at this dating gig.

"You should run out and get her some tea or coffee before she gets there, and maybe some pastries." Rosalie offered.

"Pastries? What are we, French now?" Emmett argued.

"He's not picking her up. The least he can do is get her some breakfast."

They were talking about me like I wasn't even there.

"Won't she have already eaten by eleven? I mean I guess I could run to Coffee Bean. I think they have pastries. If not, they definitely have croissants, right?" I was more confused than ever. What constituted a pastry? Could I just get her a bagel? It would be really close to lunchtime. Maybe we could grab lunch at the museum. If I offered her a bagel, she wouldn't be hungry for lunch. Maybe I should just stick with coffee.

"You should just be yourself, E. I can tell how nervous you are and my advice would be to stay calm and cool. She's already agreed to go out with you, so she must already like you at least a little bit."

That night I practiced talking to myself in the mirror. I hadn't done this since I was a little kid. The "something different" about Bella made me want to impress. I'd been an asshole for so many years, and I wanted to make sure that guy didn't show up on our date. She wouldn't put up with it for a second. Be Myself. My former self was not a nice person so I had to be better than myself. .

After my exercise in embarrassment, I called Alice and she gave me another pep talk, telling me how great I was and how much I had to offer. She thought the coffee and bagel was a good idea. I told her I loved her and went to sleep. It was after midnight and I wanted to get up early and make sure I had time to get everything I needed to get done before she arrived.

********************************TPR**************************************************

I was running really late the next morning. My fuckin' alarm didn't go off. Fuckin cheap-ass iPhone. By the time I was showered and shaved, it was already 10:15. I ran to the Coffee Bean at the Malibu Country Mart and waited on a long-ass line. How many effing people go out on a Saturday morning and buy coffee? Oh yeah, I usually woke up at noon. It probably looked like this every Saturday morning. Bella was already having a positive effect on me! I was actually up when normal people were. Though the having to wait part sucked.

It was 10:40 by the time I was walking out with my drinks. _Please don't be early. Please don't be early._ I repeated like a mantra as I was driving down PCH. For the first time, I think maybe in my entire life, I did not sit in traffic. I made it home in ten minutes. As I pulled in, Red truck pulled in behind me.

She looked so damn cute, wearing a pink tank top and these white short pants that went to her knees. She had her hair down and I always loved that.

"Hi" She said quietly and blushed.

"Hi." I bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She smelled like a combination of vanilla, cocoa butter and Dove. She blushed even more after that. "Thanks for coming today Bella. It means a lot to me that you're giving me a chance." Oh yes, I was really laying it on thick and pulling out all the stops. I went around and opened the door of my truck for her and helped her step up, trying to keep my hand away from her ass.

"You got me coffee?" she asked with a huge smile on her face.

"Yeah, I felt bad that I didn't pick you up so I thought I would try to make up for it. I didn't know what you took in it so I got you some cream and different kinds of sugar." I handed her the bag. She was just staring at me. She looked happy, but there was something else behind her eyes. Then she seemed to shake it off.

"That was so thoughtful, Edward." She leaned over the console and kissed me on the cheek.

This was going very well.

************************************TPR****************************************

We had a lot of fun walking around the museum. I was never much of an art fanatic but I had always loved walking around the Getty with my Mom because I knew she enjoyed it so much, and it was the same with Bella. I was having a good time because I saw how happy she was. While it was a little tense in the beginning, we finally settled into casual conversations about the paintings.

I made her laugh a lot by saying that half the sculptures looked like porn and wondered if it was really to scale. I'll admit that I did try to impress her with some of my knowledge of the paintings. Hey, she'd gone a long time thinking I was some jerky rich kid who didn't have a brain in his head. I guess it mattered what she thought of me.

I loved watching her while she studied each painting. One time, she caught me looking at her. We were in front of L'entrée de Jardin Turc. It was one of Esme's favorites and we always talked about it. I could see her taking it in. She was so pretty. Her face was unique. She didn't wear a lot of makeup and she didn't need it. She had light freckles over her nose and cheeks, and big round eyes. I was still angry my father had said she would blend into the woodwork. It obviously made her feel bad and couldn't have been less true. He just liked…well…the type I used to go for. She turned quickly and caught me staring. I smiled and rubbed my thumb over her cheek.

"There's a garden tour that starts at 2:30. Would you like to go and then maybe we can grab something to eat on our way back?" I asked quietly.

She nodded, keeping eye contact. I grabbed her hand and we went to get on the line for the tour. The gardens were my favorite part of the museum and she seemed to enjoy them also. There was a quiet between us, not out of tension, but the beginnings of comfortability. This was all so new to me, but it felt right. I wanted to do right by this girl.

We stopped by In-N-Out on the way home and grabbed a very late lunch. It was so nice today, and I suggested we bring it back to my house and eat on the back deck. There was a cool wind blowing off the Pacific and we lied on our respective lounges and dug in, talking about everything under the sun. After we finished eating, I held her hand. It was so strange that this was enough for right now. The old me would have just been itching to jump on over to her lounge and start macking on her. I didn't feel anxious at all. Her hand was soft and warm and I was content.

The only topic we wisely stayed away from was Carlisle and the fact that she worked for him. I learned all about what she loved. I had never really listened to what a girl was saying before. There was no need to, since I knew it wouldn't last until the next morning. Bella was quirky and funny. We talked for hours and I wasn't bored once. When the sun started to set, I suggested she hit the road. To be honest, I didn't want the night to end, but there was no way I was asking her to stay over.

When we got to her truck, I took a deep breath and said, "There's a great brunch place about ten minutes from here. It has a great view of the ocean and the food is amazing. Would you want to…I mean I know it's a long drive...but would you feel like coming back out in the morning and going to b-brunch with me?" Jesus. Now I had developed a stutter.

"I would love to" She said. Again blushing. I wanted to kiss her. Should I?

I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Unexpectedly, she turned and we were kissing. She tasted unbelievable. A mixture of diet coke, french fries, and mint. The kiss became heated and it was everything I could do not to press her against big red truck and tear her clothes off. I somehow got the feeling I was going to need to go slowly with this girl, and pulled away, but holy fuck, I could seriously taste this girl all night. She didn't seem too eager to leave either. I finally lifted her into her truck and closed her door. She leaned her head out the window.

"Thank you, Edward. I had an amazing time tonight. It was perfect."

I beamed like a lovesick fool. "I'm glad. I wanted to make it perfect for you. Goodbye, Bella. See you tomorrow. Eleven again?"

She nodded and pulled away. I definitely needed to process what was happening.

I sat outside for a while and drank a beer. After being okay with being alone for so long, since finding out what having companionship was like, I felt a little lonely. I really liked this girl. She wasn't typical, that was for sure. But that felt right. I just knew I had to go slow. Not that I was an expert in dating, but she gave off that vibe. Like she could be innocent. She couldn't possibly be a virgin, but she obviously didn't have as much experience as the women I'd been with in the past.

She was right on time the next morning, and again looked so fuckin' cute. I came outside as she was getting out of her truck. She walked right into my arms and stood on her toes to give me a quick kiss.

"We should get to the restaurant before I have you for brunch," I said.

Geoffrey's was high on a cliff in Malibu. I had made sure to call ahead and get a table outside. The day was a little overcast, but we still had a great view. I was starving, having not eaten anything since the In-n-out the previous day. We ordered oysters, mimosas, scotch Benedict, and lobster quiche. Bella loved food. She loved to eat. And I loved to watch her. I could hear her little moans and wondered if that was what she would sound like when we would finally have sex, but I tried to get that out of my head, since I'd agreed with myself to take it slowly with her. _Old me. Old me._ I couldn't remind myself enough.

We finally left, completely stuffed. As we pulled into my driveway, I squeezed her hand. She was gazing out the window looking very happy. The sky was starting to darken, and I knew we had about a minute to get inside...

"Let's go inside so I can get you some water. It's going to rain any second."

She gave me a weak smile. I ran around to her side and helped her down from the truck. We ran holding hands into the alcove of my doorway as the rain started to come down. I smiled down at her and kissed her. Soon the kiss got out-of-hand. I opened the door behind me while still kissing her and fell into the house. I lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around my waist. We ended up collapsing together on the couch. I rearranged her so she was on top of me. My breathing picked up as I leaned in and kissed her soundly.

There was no resistance. She ran her fingers through my hair and I groaned loudly against her mouth. I loved when chicks ran their hands through my hair. I didn't know where to put my hands, so I ran them up the back of her t-shirt. And then under. Her skin was smooth and soft. She jumped a little, and it was then I remembered that she wasn't like the other girls I'd been with, and I wanted to do right by her.

"Bella, we should stop…" Yep. I couldn't believe those words came out of my mouth. "I really want to keep going, but you have to tell me what you want. I don't want to assume anything."

"I'm sorry, Edward. I know you're used to girls who are more experienced. I hope you don't mind guiding me. I've never…you know…done _that_."

My heart stopped. I mean I knew she was inexperienced, but a virgin? I had never been with a virgin. Not even when I lost mine.

"Please say something."

She looked terrified. I guess she was waiting for some kind of response. Here we were, lying on my couch, with her on top of me. I was hard like a steel rod. If she were any other girl, I would have picked her up and taken her to my bedroom, spending the whole day making her scream. But this was Bella, and she was a virgin. I would have to take this even slower than I originally thought, because even though losing my own virginity didn't mean much, I wanted her to have a good experience. Bella was good.

"I think we should take it slow. Your first time should be a special experience for you, and I don't want you to feel pressured into doing anything." She looked like I had just drop-kicked her puppy. I gazed up into her eyes. "I swear, I'm not turned off by what you just said."

To prove it, I kissed her slowly, reaching up under her shirt and palming her breast. We kissed for as long as I thought my self-control would allow, and I realized I'd reached my breaking point...

"Bella, we should definitely stop while I can still control myself."

Again, words never uttered out of this mouth before.

"Listen, why don't you pick out a movie while I go use the bathroom?" I knew I had to get rid of my little – or not so little - problem. I kissed her again and jumped up. "I'll get us some drinks too."

She looked a little shocked, I guess by how fast I'd gotten up, but then she smiled.

"Thanks. That would be great."

By now it was storming. We rarely had thunderstorms on the coast and it was awesome to see the lightning light up the sky over the Pacific.

When I came back from the bathroom with two bottles of Perrier, she had put on "Say Anything" which was playing on TBS. Total chick flick, but it was ok. I could identify with Lloyd – grand gestures and all! All guys could learn something from Lloyd.

She smiled shyly at me and said it was one of her favorite movies. We cuddled on the couch for the rest of the afternoon and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel lonely. I felt content. Like nothing was missing.

A Huge thanks to Tropical Sorbet for her shout outs on Twitter. If you are not reading _Edroar the Angry Lion_ you are seriously missing out. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time! No Seriously. Go read this right now!

http:/wwwDOTfanfictionDOTnet/s/6037621/1/Edroar_the_Angry_Lion

What else we are reading…

_The Workshop: A Tale of Edible Delights._

HOLY COW. Chef Tattward and Chef Snarkella. How can you go wrong? Throw in a cute little girl and a Miami backdrop and I swear I didn't leave my house for days…

www

_Torn_ by Dooba

Super Angsty and hard to read but at the same time, beautifully written and you just want to give Mute Bella a hug.

http:/wwwDOTanfictionDOTnet/s/6356034/19/

_In Too Deep_ by EdwardsBloodType

I know you all know this author! In Too Deep is so great and I know it already has thousands of reviews but for those that have not started it, it is just as great as High Anxiety (which has a great epilogue by the way! Check it out!), This is a great Italian Edward from Long Island. You have to read this…

http:/wwwDOTfanfictionDOTnet/s/6358380/1

We love all the reviews we have been getting and try to respond to all! We are so glad you are enjoying this Bella and Edward!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks for hanging around. Sorry it took so long. ImwithPattz is my sister from another mister and I can't thank her enough for all of the hand-holding this time around. Irritable_Grizzly is the rocking beta who, remarkably, is still speaking to me after my breakdown over this chapter. She deserves 1001 kudos!**

**As always, Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Think she likes sharing?**

* * *

_If I would've knew that the boy next door was you, _

_I would've been nice to you, _

_spent a little time with you,_

_ I would've dressed cuter too._

_~Girl Next Door, Musiq_

Early Monday morning I was back at my post, begrudgingly sitting outside of Edward's house for what seemed like the hundredth time. The heat wave had come and gone, leaving the gorgeous blue skies with a smattering of clouds that covered the sun from time to time. The air was back to its usually salty sweetness and the ocean breeze blew in through the opened windows of my truck. I had stretched out along the bench seat, head propped against the edge of the driver's-side door, my bare feet sticking out the passenger-side window. I'd had the forethought to start bringing books with me and was currently engrossed in a fun and silly series about a woman with a shopping addiction.

Just as I laughed out loud about another one of the heroine's shopping mishaps, Edward approached, and the scowl he'd been wearing smoothed from his face as it morphed into a gentle smile. Much to my surprise, he'd jumped right back into our routine and brought me out an ice cold bottle of Perrier.

What do you say to someone whose mood shifts with the changes in the tide? Would he be warm today? Would he hurl insults about my intelligence? I could never tell. It was infuriating, and honestly, I didn't understand why he talked to me at all. He could have gone about his business every day without so much as a glance in my direction. So here we sat, me narrowing my eyes and contemplating his motivations until the silence got unbearable and I decided to go first. I asked him if he wanted to tell me I was an idiot again, challenging him to be Mr. Jerkward.

He may have caught me off-guard last week, when I'd let myself believe that the introspective, compassionate, silly man I'd experienced was his true self, but I was prepared for his alter-ego now. Stupid inflated, giant, too-big-for-this-universe ego.

Momentarily I imagined Edward as one of those huge inflatable animals that you always see on the top of car dealerships. The thought of his face on a giant purple balloon gorilla made me snort. Then I sighed and then looked at him again, waiting for a sign as to which Edward would be visiting me today.

Turns out, it was Argumenativeward. We had a fight that quickly degenerated into a "Did so! Did not!" level of childishness that would have been funny if I hadn't been so exasperated.

Then he admitted he was jealous, and I was confused. Why would he be jealous of me going on a date with Jake? Except if…and then it hit me…was he…gay? I had never seen him with a girl, and he never had a steady girlfriend. Sure he made jokes about being such a player, but didn't a lot of guys use that as a cover?

When he said he wanted me, we both sat there in stunned silence. I listened to my heartbeat ramp up from a lazy thud to pounding at the speed of light. Me; he wanted me. The gorgeous man I'd been fighting my attraction to all of these weeks, wanted me. All of his erratic behavior and hostile outbursts were literally misguided affections akin to the boy that pulled my pigtails when I was in third grade.

...

The rest of the week was a whirlwind. Edward and I went on two official dates during which he was visibly nervous. I was pleasantly surprised when he asked me to go on a real date to the Getty Museum. We walked quietly through the exhibits at first, but as the air around us unraveled, we settled into our natural, easygoing interaction.

I giggled when Edward made jokes about the painters and the "inspiration" for their art, and I felt completely mortified when he made lewd gestures at the sculptures, and slapped him on the arm. Yet when he calmed down and stopped being immature, I found he was passionate about the art that he liked. When I spent a long moment gazing at the perfection of _Entrance to the Jardin Turc_ , I noticed Edward wasn't looking at the painting, but rather at me. My cheeks flushed. I wasn't used to this undisguised attention.

He suggested we take the guided tour of the gardens and he held my hand the entire time as we fell back into quiet. This time it wasn't out of awkwardness, but rather a relaxed comfort. We had a casual lunch afterward and then relaxed on the deck at his house. It was a perfect afternoon, and I saw a side of Edward that gave me hope. Hope that he was actually this insightful, witty, and intelligent man. Hope that my instinct to trust him and let myself tumble into this churning pool of desire wouldn't destroy everything I'd been working toward and completely derail me from my goals.

As we parted ways, he asked me if he could take me out again. After I agreed to brunch the next morning at a high-end restaurant that overlooked the ocean, he kissed me goodbye. And when I say "kissed," I mean tasted and sucked at my lips with so much heat that I truly had to pry myself away just so I could catch my breath. No one had ever kissed me like that before and let me tell you, I'm a big fan. Big! HUGE!

Our brunch was amazing and the ride back down PCH was spent again in comfortable silence, our hands clasped across the console of his SUV. A summer storm was looming, and we hurried back to his house to escape the rain. Standing in the doorway, he came at me with purpose, kissing me gently at first, and then building with passion as I reciprocated eagerly.

Tumbling through the door, I wrapped my legs around his waist as he picked me up and carried me to the couch. He set me on top of him, giving me the control, not trapping me or pushing me too far. If what he'd said was true, Edward had been with plenty of women far more experienced than I was, and I could see the wheels turning in his head every time he touched me.

As much as my skin sizzled and a part of me wanted to get carried away, I instinctively froze when he put his hand under my shirt. At that point I needed to be forthright with my experience, or lack thereof. I was timid, but not scared. I wanted him in a way that I had never felt open to with any other man. Just the thought of him touching me in certain places, both secret and sensual, excited me. I may not have been ready when I was a young girl, but I wasn't a teenager anymore, and I knew what I wanted.

After my admission, his silence was excruciating, and the inky darkness of embarrassment and shame crept from my chest and up to my face. The headiness of the lust was dissipating, leaving me feeling naked and exposed, and not in a good, sexy way. I begged him to say something, and he gave me the "we should take it slow" line, and something about making the experience "special" for me.

Kill me now. Just please, let the ground open up and swallow me whole. He didn't want _that_ with _me_. I'd made a huge assumption that he wanted to take our relationship in that direction based on what? A kiss? A little making out? Good grief, I was not only embarrassing myself, but virgins everywhere. Of course he didn't want to have sex with me; I would have no idea what I was doing! It was all I could do not to put a bag over my head and drive my sorry self home.

And then like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds, he said he wasn't turned off by what I'd said.

I wasn't sure I believed him, and went into self-defense mode. Then he kissed me, and this was no G-rated movie kiss, oh no, it was a full-on " 'bout to get down 'n dirty R-movie" kiss. Slow and sensual, teasing me in ways that I could imagine him doing it in other places.

My body heated and my thoughts moved like molasses when he slid his hand ever-so-gently up my shirt and wrapped it around my breast, his thumb drifting carefully and cautiously over my nipple. Although his hand stayed there, I could feel his touch in every part of my body. I wanted him to touch me everywhere, but I had no idea how to tell him. So we kissed and touched until he broke away and said we should stop while he could control himself.

Then he suggested we watch a movie and he went to the restroom while I flipped through the channels and contemplated the situation. I was disappointed, but he was right. It was crazy to think I would just jump into bed with him, right? I mean, I barely knew him, at least compared to the years I'd spent with Peter, and we'd never gone past third base. There was just something about Edward that made me want to throw caution to the wind. That was when I realized I had to keep myself in check. Edward had a very dangerous effect on me. I was breaking all of my rules, and it didn't even feel wrong.

We watched _Say Anything_, all cozied up on the couch while we waited for the storm to lighten enough so I could drive home. It was nice. Edward was nice. The whole day was _nice_.

Then, as I was driving home, reality set in. I was in big, big trouble. How would I explain this to Mr. Masen?

...

Cheese on a cracker! Mr. Masen was going to be furious. How would I convince him that I wasn't some sleazy bimbo trying to get her hooks in Edward for his money? The best I could do was be honest and beg for him not to fire me. I mean, surely he wouldn't keep me on this assignment, but maybe I could be someone else's assistant, or the receptionist, or even the janitor. Whatever it was, I prayed I didn't lose my "in" at Masen Publishing.

I was looking at the very likely possibility that I would lose my job at Masen Publishing for pursuing Edward; or wait, had he pursued me? I wasn't sure. From the start, our whole relationship had been so confusing. Fears, excuses, and pleas of forgiveness all spun around in my head.

I begrudgingly called Jessica and made an appointment with Mr. Masen. He needed to know what was going on. Until then, I would just try to put it out of my mind, and I figured since I'd begun to open my heart to Edward, I would open my home as well. I invited him for a home-cooked dinner that Friday night.

When Thursday morning came, I was understandably a nervous wreck. I wore the suit I used for interviews: navy pencil skirt, ivory silk top, and navy fitted coat. I also pulled my hair into a neat french twist. I wanted Mr. Masen to see that I was serious about my job, and that my relationship with Edward wouldn't change my loyalty to his company.

As I climbed out of my truck and trudged through the parking lot, I noticed that nothing had changed, yet everything felt different. It had only been a couple of weeks since I had been to the office to check in with Carlisle, before that wicked witch Jessica had make it clear that he didn't have time to meet with me anymore. Somehow in that short span of time the stunted, squat building with its expansive darkened glass windows had gone from the place I called home, to something foreign and daunting. My stomach was tied in knots as I opened the double doors.

I spent what was surely an unnecessary amount of time in the hard plastic chair facing Jessica as I waited for Mr. Masen to summon me to his office. Jessica fiddled around, gossiped with a few other employees, and even checked her facebook page- twice. With exaggerated sighs and a swiftly jiggling foot, I made my impatience known, but Jessica would just smirk and tell me Mr. Masen was still in his meeting.

Just when I was about to give her a piece of my mind, she picked up her phone, whispered into it, and then put it back down, smiling cheerily at me. This time I was positive there was no one on the other end. Luckily she must have had her fill of torturing me because without even looking up she stated simply, "He's ready for you now."

I straightened my skirt and steadied myself mentally. I could do this. Honesty was always the best policy. Through the mahogany doors of power I heard the familiar clacking of Mr. Masen's keyboard. It was reassuring that as odd as it felt to be back in the office, some things stayed the same. I knocked with purpose and pushed open the door.

"Bella! It's wonderful to see you. I was beginning to think you weren't ever coming back. It's been weeks since you've updated me in person, but I was still getting your emails, so I was confident you were 'on the job.'" He threw me a "bling" smile and turned back to his computer monitor.

"But...I... Jessica..." I was dumbfounded. Jessica was sabotaging me! Here I was thinking Mr. Masen really was too busy, when all along he thought I'd just stopped showing up. Un-freaking-believable.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Mr. Masen said, finally pulled his eyes away from the monitor as he leaned back in his giant black leather office chair, lacing his fingers together across his midsection.

"Well, Mr. Masen, I have an update for you."

He nodded, and I continued. "You see, the situation has changed, and so I don't think it's appropriate for me to remain on my special assignment. I understand that you have someone currently filling my position …" he smirked but I just kept going, "…so I'm willing to return to my former position, or even take on a lesser-role, possibly in reception, or wherever you see fit."

"My dear, has something happened? Has Edward done something to make you uncomfortable?" There was a slight edge to his voice. Even with the sugarcoating, I could tell there was a retained anger.

I stuttered, looking for the right thing to say.

Then Carlisle gave me a reassuring smile and leaned forward. "Come on, Bella, you can trust me. I know my son, and I'm well aware he can be a little...difficult. Did he try to get you into his bed? Did he lead you to a bad part of town? Did you have to bail him out of jail? He's not making you into his caretaker, is he? That boy, he could charm anyone to do anything. Just tell me what the problem is, and I'll make it go away, okay?"

I was shocked by the list of ideas Mr. Masen had provided. None of those things were even on my radar. I wondered if Edward had ever really done those things, or if Mr. Masen was being facetious. Sorting through my bewilderment, I shook off the niggling feeling of unease.

"No! Edward isn't like that at all! He's very sweet…well, most of the time, and he didn't try to…make me do anything," I said, blushing furiously when I thought of our afternoon together, but trudged on. "But we're dating and I thought it was a conflict of interest should we follow our current path and he becomes my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, you say? Well Bella, I've never actually known Edward to be the boyfriend type. Are you trying to politely tell me you're sleeping with my son?"

I blanched. Edward wasn't the boyfriend type? What was he then? What were we doing? Immature outbursts aside, Edward had been sweet and considerate, showing me in small ways he was thinking of me. He couldn't merely be trying to "get me into bed" as Mr. Masen suggested, since he told me he wasn't turned off by my admission. We'd had two dates in two days, plus he seemed eager to come for dinner on Friday. We may not be "boyfriend and girlfriend" yet, but all the signs were there. No, Mr. Masen was wrong. He clearly didn't know his son. I had spent weeks following his every move, and I hadn't seen any sign of Edward being anything like he'd had described.

"I...I... we aren't sleeping together." I stammered through my embarrassment and confusion.

"Well then, I'm sure there's no conflict here. Edward is a very handsome young man, and I can understand why you have a crush on him, but I'm sure it won't interfere with this assignment."

His dismissive attitude both insulted me and caused me to panic. My career was on the line, and it appeared he was completely misunderstanding the situation. "Mr. Masen, as I said, it must be against some sort of company policy to be dating the very person it's one's job to observe."

Boy that sounded odd. What was my job, really? I was further from being an editor now than when I had started at the company, but I pushed the nagging thought aside, not wanting to lose focus.

"I truly believe honesty is the best policy and I couldn't, in good conscience, continue to date Edward and remain on this assignment. I will be very grateful for any position here at Masen Publishing. Just please, please, don't fire me. My honesty has to count for something, right?"

He looked thoughtful. "You say you're dating? Be more specific, please," he said, his brow knit in concern.

Why would he want me to be more specific unless…did he think I was crazy? Oh gosh, did Mr. Masen think I was delusional and had confused my following Edward with the idea that we were actually dating? I may be a little naïve - one might even say gullible at times - but delusional I was not. What if he'd concocted images of me taking pictures with a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Edward and doodling his name in my notebook? Okay, maybe that second one wasn't too far off, but that wasn't the point. I had to remedy this right away.

"Yes, we're dating. We went to lunch on the Malibu Pier, visited the Getty Museum, and had a wonderful brunch at Geoffrey's last week."

My eyes glazed over, lost in the memories of the decadent meal and the sweet taste of syrup that had lingered on Edward's tongue. Then I righted myself to the task at hand and continued with my explanation.

"We talk every day, and when I'm parked in front of his house he brings me bottles of water that I don't even ask for, just to be nice. He's coming to my house tomorrow night for dinner. We are dating," I reiterated, and then nodded with finality to affirm the information I'd spilled all over Mr. Masen's office.

It had been a long time since I'd dated anyone, and it was frightening yet invigorating to say it out loud. I drew in a long breath and waited for a response. Mr. Masen seemed to be weighing everything I'd said, letting it roll around in his mind. Then he suddenly beamed at me.

"This is great. Oh, yes, it couldn't be better than if I'd thought of it myself!" He clapped his hands together and got up and paced in front of his window, similar to the way he had when he'd set me on this odd venture. "You, Isabella Swan, have taken this assignment to a whole new level. This is perfect. You're a wholesome good girl; a rule-follower. You can help get Edward on the straight and narrow. You're one of the most dedicated employees here. Oh yes, yes, this will be exactly what we need."

He turned and looked at me, planting his hands on his desk and leaning forward with a wide alligator-like grin. "You're going to tell him how much you love coming to work every day and how great your life is working here. You're going to be the positive influence he needs to steer him in the right direction. You and I are going to be partners in getting Edward on the right track."

Nodding, I said, "I can tell him what I like about working here, that's no problem," and smiled brightly, responding to the positivity radiating from Mr. Masen. "I'm so glad I was truthful early on and we could rectify the situation immediately. Do you have any ideas regarding my new position?"

"What? Oh, you're not getting a new position," he said, somewhat distracted as he shuffled through his papers, obviously looking for something.

"So I'll be resuming my duties as your assistant? That's great. Will that be a problem, given my relationship with Edward?" I just wanted to make sure I crossed all of my T's and dotted all of my I's.

Seemingly lost in his own thoughts, he ignored my question and reached over to the phone, hitting a button. "Jess, I'm gonna need you to take Bella to HR to fill out some forms. Then he turned back to me. "Bella, I want you to take a leave of absence - paid, of course - to really focus on your relationship with Edward. Thank you for coming forward and letting me know the situation. It's going to work out even better than I'd hoped. You're a superstar, Bella!"

Before I knew it, I was following Jessica in her too-tight skirt and low-cut top out of Mr. Masen's office in a daze. I didn't like the way I felt at all. The knots were replaced with a hollowness in the pit of my stomach. I still had my job, or some semblance of it, but I felt as if I was standing on a house of cards.

...

The butter melted into a glorious sizzling pool in the pan as I stirred in the sliced onions gently, adding the sugar after they became translucent. I added a bit of water and put on the lid to let them soften and eventually caramelize. On the cast-iron grill, the turkey burgers were almost done, with beautiful mouthwatering lines of char. Edward stood behind me playing with my hair in an attempt to distract me as he stole dried cranberries a handful at a time from the bag.

I swatted his hand, "Edward, there won't be any left for the burgers if you keep that up."

"Who puts dried cranberries on a burger anyway?" When he threw another handful in his mouth, I turned and shoved him away from the counter.

"Why don't you turn on some music?"

He squeezed my side and went to choose a song.

"What do you wanna hear?"

"Anything is fine with me. Just pick dinner-appropriate music."

The first thumping bass beats of a dirty hip-hop song came blasting from the tiny sound system.

"Edward!" I admonished, throwing another cranberry at him.

He laughed and picked a nice mid-tempo emo rock playlist, then sat at the table sipping on a beer while I finished the burgers, placing a slice of swiss cheese on each one. I put a bit of water in the grill pan and quickly covered it to melt the cheese. The fresh brioche buns sat with a weighty spicy brown mustard already spread across them. Once everything was assembled, I grabbed a plate in each hand and headed to join Edward.

Even though we'd talked last night, I wanted to wait until he and I were face-to-face to begin my "get Edward to work at Masen Publishing" campaign, and tell him about my leave of absence. I figured he'd be in a better frame of mind.

"So, Edward, have you ever thought about working at your dad's company?" I thought I'd start out casual, see where he stood. Maybe Mr. Masen was all wrong. Maybe Edward was eager to work for his dad and this whole business of "convincing" him would be moot.

He took a huge bite, talking through his full mouth like a teenage boy, "Thought about it? Yeah, and then thought about something better." He looked at the burger, surprise on his face. "Damn, Bella! You're right! This burger is like Thanksgiving dinner on a fucking bun!"

My eyes widened and he meekly apologized, blaming the awesome dinner for his inappropriate language.

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad. I've always loved working there ." I smiled at him, encouraging him to see the positive.

"What's to love? Wearing some stuffy monkey suit while staring at a computer screen, stuck inside of the same four walls every day? Ffff...screw that."

Crikey! He really hated the whole idea. This was not good. What was I going to do?

My smile fell. "Don't you ever want to have a career?" I asked, hopeful that he was just opposed to the nepotism.

"I haven't really thought about it." He took another huge bite and washed it down with a swig from his beer bottle.

I gulped my water, choking on it. "You haven't thought about it? Edward, don't you have goals? A plan, for your life?"

"No, I don't have a life plan, do you?" he scoffed.

"Of course!" I exclaimed, flabbergasted by his lack of forethought.

He froze with his burger in the air; his mouth open, poised to take another bite. "You do?"

"Absolutely. Since my senior year of high school I've been working toward my goal of becoming an editor at one of the top publishing houses. I was doing great, but things are kind of, well, up in the air right now, but I'm going to right everything soon, though. I'm sure of it."

"If you want to be an editor, what are you doing following me to the gym every day?" There was a skeptical edge to his voice. He'd set his burger down and wiped at his hands on the cloth napkin.

I took a deep breath and spouted the answer I'd rehearsed in my head countless times. "It's just a test; a hoop to jump through. Mr. Masen is testing my loyalty to the company. He already knows I'm capable and just wants to make sure he can trust me."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "You really believe that?"

"Yes, I do," I said, getting defensive. "Mr. Masen is a man of his word. Maybe if you spent more time there, you'd see what a true professional he is."

His face hardened and I immediately recognized I'd made a misstep. In an effort to right the dangerous trajectory of our conversation, I softened my tone and added some positive perspective.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything about your relationship, but maybe it would be good if you spent a little more time at Masen Publishing. If you got used to it, you'd see how great it could be for your future. You said yourself you hadn't really thought about it. Maybe…I...could help you think about it more?"

"You sound just like him. I don't wanna talk about this shit, Bella, so just knock it off, okay? I thought you were different, but you're just like the other chicks, aren't you? You think you can mold me into your 'perfect man?' Well, you can forget the fairytale now." He sounded bitter and venomous.

I planted my face into my hands, mumbling and moaning my contrition.

"Ohhhhhh...I knew this was a bad idea. I tried, I really did, but it feels wrong, like I'm doing his dirty work. I'm so sorry," I said and peeked through my fingers, hoping he hadn't left.

"Whose dirty work?" he gripped the table, his knuckles turning white.

I took a deep breath and let my guilty conscience spill the ugly truth of my hidden agenda. "I went to see your dad today. I told him you and I were dating, hoping that if I told him the truth, he wouldn't fire me, and instead he gave me a paid leave of absence to spend more time with you and convince you to work for him. I told him I'd say some nice things; tell you that I liked working there, but you clearly hate it so much and I just didn't know what to do. I feel just terrible for pushing you so hard. I told him you couldn't be my job and my boyfriend - well, I mean, I said you would most likely be my boyfriend soon…what with us dating so much and all that other stuff…but he pressed the issue and seemed so happy with this new arrangement that I just didn't want to disappoint him and lose my job. Oh, Edward, I'm so sorry! I'm _not_ like those other women who were trying to tell you what to do or who to be. I.-"

He cut me off before I could subject him to any more of my rambling excuses. "He said what? You said WHAT?"

* * *

**A/N: Every review saves a fingernail from being bitten, just sayin'...**


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